


Seasons

by ivorytower



Series: Unityverse Sidestories [3]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M, but i mean you could try, legacy sidestory, no a threesome would not solve this problem, unityverse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-10-30 09:55:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 52,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10874367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivorytower/pseuds/ivorytower
Summary: Years ago, Jaina Proudmoore and Kael'thas Sunstrider met in Dalaran. Jaina, young, vulnerable, and frightened of her magic, and Kael'thas, lonely, angry, and determined to do more with his life than be his father's heir, become unlikely friends, allies, and even lovers, before the seasons turn, and their friendships turns bitter and angry.--Prelude to Legacy: Chapter 13.





	1. Early Spring, Y14

**Author's Note:**

> **Part I: Spring**
> 
> _Boralus Keep, Kul Tiras  
>  Early Spring, Y14_

****The rain came down in icy sheets, tasting more of Winter than Spring. Her breath came out in gusts of steam, frantic as she fled along the grey, miserable beach, away from the dockside of Boralus. There was a place she could go, a place that was _safe._ Safe from others, safe from cruel words, spoken with the confidence of one who believed the person who would be hurt by them was far away.

Spoken with a belief in those words that cut more deeply than a knife.

She ran to her safe place, the small, sheltered beach cove, chest heaving and burning from the effort. Her poncho, worn to stave off wet and cold, was soaked through, and she threw it off. The waxed linen fell into the sand, and almost immediately, chill settled in.

She pressed herself against the sheltering rocks -- sheltering from _what_ was anyone’s guess -- and wrapped her arms around herself. The rain had rendered her golden blonde hair, so unlike anyone else’s from her homeland, heavy and lifeless, and it hung across her narrow shoulders in a wet curtain.

 _They were right about me,_ she thought, terrified, frantic. _I really am a monster._

It was hard to say how long she sat there, cold, miserable, and alone, but after a while, it stopped. Warmth stole over her, wrapping her up carefully.

“Don’t cry, Jaina,” whispered a voice, the sound not unlike a babbling brook over rocks. “I’m here.”

“Oh… oh _Bluey,”_ the girl sobbed. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I’ll protect you,” Bluey said, and the feeling of warmth increased. “No matter what, I’ll keep you safe.”

Jaina sniffled, and leaned into him, though it was hard not to: Bluey was everywhere, his animate liquid form enveloping her entirely. She could breathe safely, and despite the fact he was made of water, it was the comfort of a sun-warmed ocean that he brought to her, not the stormy seas or relentless rains of Tiran Winter.

Soaking in the soothing sensation, Jaina Proudmoore, daughter of Daelin and Adriana Proudmoore, fell asleep.

~ * ~

“Well, isn’t this just a damned mess?” Daelin Proudmoore, Grand-Admiral of Kul Tiras, paced the floor of Boralus Keep like the deck of a ship caught in the rolling sea.

“The boy is unharmed,” Adriana said. Where her husband of nearly thirty years was volatile, angry, always in motion, she was calm, seated in one of the well-loved chairs in their living room. Along the walls hung pictures, landscapes of other cities -- though not her native Gilneas -- like portals to different worlds, though they seemed dim and muted. “He will recover.”

“It’s not about that,” Daelin snapped, and Adriana raised a single, pale-blonde eyebrow. He winced, and looked away. “It’s not _just_ about that. It’s about Jaina. You know she’s always been a bit sensitive.”

“Short-tempered,” Adriana corrected, and gestured slightly, with two fingers. A shrug, or a sigh, muted as she often was. She had not lived the formative years of her life in Gilneas as the only daughter of its former king without cost. “This isn’t the first time she’s lost her temper, and it won’t be the last. She has too much of the storm in her.”

Daelin turned on her, his expression complicated, his already dark skin worn by years at sea, sunlight and moons’ shadow both taking their due, another contrast to his milk-pale wife. “This is the first time she’s… done it, you know.”

“It isn’t, actually,” interjected their son, and both Proudmoores turned to look at him. Tandred, who bore closer resemblance to his father, with dark skin, brown hair, and sea-green eyes, did not wilt under their attention. “There have always been little things. Puddles of wet, snowflakes, being cold to the touch. Usually, they’re confined to _her_ and don’t affect others. Now it does. Now we have a problem.”

“We?” Adriana asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Problem?” Daelin snapped a moment later. “What problem?”

Tandred took a deep breath, and considered. He was their middle child. His older brother had died when Jaina was just little -- more little than she was now -- and no one had quite expected another child, a decade after his own birth.

Some days, he expected Derek to come walking in the door again, expression sunny, to ask them what they were all so worked up about.

"There's proof now," Tandred said finally. "Proof that Jaina is strange, and more than that, dangerous. We're going to have a harder time than ever getting people to accept her, but more than that, we're going to have more of a problem with _Jaina._ She's always had a hard time making friends, and now it turns out Jack wasn't being honest about his friendship. Even if people forget what _she_ did, she won't forget what _he_ did, and it's only going to make her more prickly going forward."

Daelin’s lips peeled back as he bared his teeth. “What did he say to her?”

“The same thing people have been saying since Jaina was six, and she came out of the ocean with a water elemental as a best friend, Da,” Tandred said, and shrugged. “We should have talked to someone then, but we didn’t.”

“...Bluey’s harmless,” Daelin muttered, and turned away to continue pacing. Tandred turned to his mother for help.

“So, which of the particular rumours about your sister have you taken to heart?” Adriana asked, a hint of icy chill, of rebuke, in her voice. “The part where she is cursed? A changeling, stolen from us when we left a window open and replaced with an evil creature? A water spirit?”

“No,” Tandred said, shaking his head, and reached up, smoothing back his hair. At twenty-one, Tandred was a ship’s captain, though the miserable weather tended to restrict him to home. Briefly, he was grateful that he was home for this particular family crisis. “That she has inborn magic, like an elf. Like Kelnar.”

Daelin stopped, and he and Adriana exchanged long, startled looks as their minds worked in unison. Daelin acted first.

“Where’s the damn--?” he muttered, hurrying out of the room.

“In the office, in the first drawer,” Adriana called out as he left. “The one with the-- lock.”

“He’ll figure it out, Mother,” Tandred said. “He might need to bang a few cabinets for his temper.”

“How could we not have seen it sooner?” Adriana asked, her hands falling to her lap to worry at the plain, squared cuffs of her dark blue dress. “Kelnar has visited us for years.”

“Because magic isn’t exactly common on the Isles?” Tandred hazarded. “Because Derek and I are as mundane as floorboards, but Jaina’s always been a little different?”

“Were,” Adriana murmured softly, and Tandred pretended he didn’t hear.

“Not to mention, when we think of wizards and magi, we think of old men with white beards in big towers, not little Sunfish.”

Adriana closed her eyes. “She’s so young, too young.”

“The world doesn’t usually care how old you are before it decides to hurt you,” Tandred said. “The hurt comes and the hurt goes, but the world moves on.”

“I’m going to have to forbid you from going to Lordaeron if you keep quoting from paladins,” Adriana said, though there was no edge to her voice.

“No, not that,” Tandred joked, throwing up his hands in mock-horror. “It’s too cruel.”

“Brat,” Adriana said, but there was no rancour in her voice. “Since you are so clever, what do we do next?”

“What any good member of the Alliance does when they come under siege from an enemy unknown,” Tandred said, shrugging. “They call for help.”

~ * ~

Help came in a matter of hours, which was good, because no one was quite sure where the person who needed help actually was. From the Proudmoores' collective explanation, Antonidas was able to glean that they'd checked all her usual hiding spots. The private cove which was apparently her favorite place had been checked twice, the sheltering rocks inspected, the sand examined for footprints. They had found her poncho, half-buried in sand, and _that_ had led to wild speculation as to where Jaina might be now.

Kelnar Goldensword, one of the teachers at the Violet Spire Academy in Dalaran, had brought the current matter to the Archmage’s attention, and he’d come personally because, in a sense, he and Daelin were friends.

Or, perhaps, it was more accurate to say that they had once sat at the same negotiating table, rolling their eyes as Genn Greymane and Aiden Perenolde argued strenuously that the orcs were not _their_ problem in front of a fifteen year old boy who had watched his entire kingdom burn.

Adriana and Tandred studied him curiously, and the Archmage knew he was exactly what people thought of when they thought of mages: he was an old man, with white, receding hair and a long beard, curled at the tip, from habitually curling it around one finger while he thought. His eyes were piercing and dark, in contrast with skin that was pale, and almost papery in texture, as if he had come to life from one of the numerous tomes held in the great libraries of the city he had ruled for well over a decade.

“Thank you for coming so quickly,” Daelin said, offering a work-roughened hand. Antonidas was startled by the gesture, but took it, and returned what he hoped was a reasonably firm sailor’s handshake.

Adriana held out her hand, and he bowed over it, in a more courtly, and more comfortable manner.

“Kelnar impressed upon me the urgency of the situation,” Antonidas said. “Sorcery is a dangerous thing when left uncontrolled, and rarely manifests in one so young. Jaina was… quite small, when last I saw her.”

“Well, she’s been having odd turns since she was about six,” Daelin said, and Antonidas raised an eyebrow. “Don’t give me that. We thought most of it was people imagining things, or fussing for nothing. Now she’s disappeared without a trace. It could be… magic.”

“That seems unlikely, but I can certainly locate her,” Antonidas said. “I will require a bowl of water, and a possession of hers. A beloved toy, perhaps, or an article of clothing. Something she has with her quite often.”

“Shame she has her gun with her then,” Daelin said, even as Tandred rose to fetch Jaina’s bedclothes. “She never leaves anywhere without it.”

Antonidas, stopped in the process of pulling out a sampling of herbs from his belt pouches and stared, aghast. “Her _what?”_

“Tiran,” Adriana said, helpfully, ringing for a kitchen servant. “They’re quite fond of their guns.”

“She’s _eleven.”_

“She received it when she was eight,” Adriana said mildly. “A compromise made to address my concerns, since the usual age is seven.” The look of abject horror and confusion on his face made Adriana smile, just the tiniest bit, a concession towards emotion.

The requested items appeared quickly, Tandred carrying a nightshirt, and the maid, who saw the Archmage, wisely put the bowl down on the table, and left for the safety of the kitchen.

“In, ah,” Daelin began, beginning to pace, and then realized -- with encouragement from Adriana -- that he probably shouldn’t. He stopped, and toyed with his sleeve. “In your own time.”

Antonidas peered at the Grand Admiral, his lady wife, who sat with hands folded and expression closed off, as though the whole thing was happening to someone else’s daughter and not her own, and Tandred, who was sitting forward in his seat, hands clasped, as though waiting to see something incredible. He sighed. “Of course.”

Antonidas focused his attention on the bowl. He sprinkled a handful of crushed silverleaf into the bowl and used a small, tapered stick to stir it. As he did so, he began the incantation, and each word was fixed in his mind as a particular component to the spell. The syllables, to the uninitiated, would sound like gibberish, but to him created a string of real, stone-solid ideas.

 _Vision near and vision far,_  
_Bring me the sights that I look for._  
_Vision far and vision near,_  
_Show me the one that I hold dear._

Antonidas stopped stirring and set the stick aside, then dipped the nightshirt in the water. It was only the tiniest touch, but already, the water was darkening, and he set it aside, focusing his gaze on the bowl. The image resolved and a beach appeared to him, grey and dingy, lashed with rain and mist coming from the nearby ocean.

It would have been unremarkable except for the cluster of boulders that occupied the focus of his vision.

“I have found her,” Antonidas declared. “Do you have a beach nearby with grey sand, and a cluster of large rocks?”

In near-perfect unison, all three Proudmoores rolled their eyes.

“Of course we do,” Daelin said. “But we’ve looked there. Twice. It’s her favourite spot on the Isles, but that’s not where she _is.”_

“Could it be… that perhaps her fondness for it has imprinted onto her clothing, somehow?” Adriana hazarded. “You needed it for… familiarity?”

Antonidas had to give the woman some credit for at least _attempting_ to understand the science behind the magic. “That was the reason, but the process isn’t so simple. No, she must be there, you must have missed her.”

“Twice?”

“She could be hiding,” Tandred pointed out. “Considering how frightened she was, there’s a very good chance she _is_ hiding.”

“Hiding from her _family?”_ Daelin asked, skeptical. “Doesn’t she know she can trust _us?”_

Antonidas held up a hand to forestall further argument. “If she is there, even hidden, I can find her.”

“Do you need someone to show you the way?” Tandred asked, rising from his seat. “I can--”

“I have seen the location, and thus I can find it,” Antonidas reassured him, and Tandred frowned. “Remain here, in case seeing you provokes her towards moving elsewhere.”

“Archmage,” Adriana said, her voice soft. “Bring my daughter home safely. Please.”

“I will,” Antonidas promised, and for a moment, saw the very real fear behind the illusion of calm. Tandred crossed to his mother’s side, and put a hand on her shoulder, comforting.

The Archmage uttered a short incantation that teleported him towards the beach, leaving the Proudmoores to worry amongst themselves.

~ * ~

The weather was, of course, utterly wretched, and Antonidas wondered, as he stumbled across the beach, if the girl might not have just given up and gone indoors.

 _I was not_ wrong, he thought in irritation. _My scrying is quite accurate. The girl is here, just… very well hidden._

He had expected that, upon arrival, the girl would be easy to find. Certainly, he could feel the gentle eddies of arcane magic here, no greater or lesser than most other places that weren’t Dalaran, Quel’thalas, or a few select other locations in the greater Eastern Kingdoms. There was nothing overtly remarkable about the Sovereign Nation of the Great Sea, Consisting Of the Isles of Kul Tiras, Crestfall, and Balor, all things considered.

 _Except for one, little girl, eluding an archmage,_ Antonidas thought with no small amount of annoyance, and resisted the urge to punt the starfish on the beach straight back into the ocean. _No need to lose your temper, Anton. Just find the girl and go back inside. Simple._

It was not simple. He had circled the rocks three times, looking for cracks or places to hide underneath, and found none. The wind and rain lashed at the beach, erasing his own tracks as easily as any spell of obfuscation could.

It was cold, and wet, and he had not dressed for this at all. The Archmage sighed deeply, and looked at the matted state of his beard, the odd bit of tarp that had been discarded on the beach, and touched his sleeve. He uttered a few short words, all of which translated roughly to ‘repel’, and immediately, he was dry. The runes on his robes blazed purple, and the silk and cotton they were composed of rejected the water, allowing it to roll off of him as rain was repelled by glass windows, as fine a modern invention as anything else.

For a moment, he watched the water gather and drip, and then it hit him, the flash of genius that came after a long, frustrating slump.

 _She_ is _hiding, and she’s using magic,_ he realized. _Not deliberately, but if her powers have awakened in a haphazard fashion, there is no logic to her progression, no measured learning experience, just instinct. Therefore…_

He returned to the rocks, and circled more slowly. On the side near the ocean, the rain struck the rocks and dripped down, though there was no telling how long it had been since the beach had been dry, if ever. On the two other sides, they seemed quite ordinary, but Antonidas suspected that he would find his solution sheltering on the far side of the rocks, away from the ocean and some of the wind and rain.

He was right, and found water dripping not from the rocks, but from a small distance in front of it. The air, which was already filled with mist and moisture, was distorted, blurry, hidden by the terrible weather.

“I see you,” Antonidas said, putting confidence into his voice, even though what he could see was the faintest smudge on reality. “Come out, now.”

There was a pause, and briefly, the Archmage had some concern he was about to be shot by an angry, frightened eleven year old, but the sharp crack never came. Instead, the illusion fell away, and was replaced by a different strange sight.

Jaina Proudmoore sat curled against the rock, completely immersed in water. It clung to her, almost entirely clear, with only the faintest hint of blue around the edges, and a pair of glowing, white-gold eyes peered up at him, reproachful.

They were not Jaina’s eyes, and Antonidas realized he probably should have asked about this.

“Who’re you?” asked the girl, her voice distorted by water. “Are you taking me away? Are you a paladin?”

Antonidas considered his appearance, and that of great men and women like Sir Uther and Lady Trueheart, and tried not to laugh. She was only a child, after all. Fortunately, beards were good at hiding mirth, most of the time. “No, my dear. My name is Antonidas and I am an Archmage. Do you know what that means?”

“It means you’re a witch,” Jaina replied, staring up at him. “Like Kelnar.”

“...a little like that, yes,” Antonidas said. “I understand that you’ve been using magic yourself.”

Jaina pressed herself back against the stones, and the water flowed around her, hardening into a shield.

“Leave Jaina alone!” said a voice that burbled up from the water in clear, though accented, Common, a match for the girl’s own. “She didn’t mean to hurt him, and he was mean besides!”

 _What on Azeroth..?_ Antonidas wondered, and considered for a moment. “Do you… did you conjure a water elemental?”

“Didn’t… con-thing,” Jaina said. “Bluey’s my friend. He saved me when I was little.”

 _You’re still little,_ the Archmage reflected. “That is a fine nickname.” He put authority into his voice. “Denizen of the Abyssal Depths, identify yourself to me.”

The elemental seemed to shrink a little, but replied, “M’name’s Bluey.”

 _That’s absolutely absurd, no creature of that designation would have the name--_ It struck him suddenly, as the realization about how Jaina had been hiding had done, moments before. _She did this. She called out to the elemental planes for an ally and summoned up a… an impressionable being and shaped it to her will. She used illusion magic instinctively to hide herself, and ice magic to strike out at a foe._

Jaina Proudmoore might well be the most powerful potential sorceress he had ever seen.

He was knocked out of his reverie by Jaina herself, poking at him with one foot. “You stuck? You stopped.”

“No, I am quite well,” Antonidas said, blustering a little. “You, however, are not. How long have you been out here in the rain?”

“Um,” Jaina considered. “A while. Everyone hates me, I’m weird.” She shrugged, uncomfortable. “Cursed.”

“You are unusual, but no one hates you,” Antonidas assured her. “In fact, your parents and your brother asked me to come here, all the way from Dalaran, just to look for you and help you. They love you very much.”

“Dalaran…” Jaina breathed. “Do you know Kelnar? Is she here too? Is Finn?”

In most circumstances, assuming that, as a mage, Antonidas knew every other mage, would be irritating, but it was in this particular circumstance, quite true.

“I do, though they are not here,” he said. “But Kelnar is worried about you too, I’m certain. And, Finn?”

“Finnall Goldensword,” Jaina said, impatient. “She’s my _sister._ My big sister.”

 _Oh,_ Antonidas thought. He knew the elven woman primarily through her work as a first-year teacher, and was dimly aware of her daughter, who had finished her tall-and-awkward stage some time ago, and had been sent to Silvermoon to learn the craft of the Spellbreakers.

He had not quite considered what her familiarity to the family might mean.

“Is Jaina cold?” Bluey asked, worried. “You’re shivering.”

“It’s cold out here,” Jaina admitted. “Though you’re doing a good job, don’t worry.”

“We could go inside to talk,” Antonidas suggested, putting contemplation about the romantic entanglements of his peers aside. “You could be drier, and warmer.”

“...you’re sure no one is mad at me?” Jaina asked, peering up at him through the elemental’s body.

“I’m sure.” Antonidas offered her his hand. “Come along, my dear.”

Jaina reached up and took it, and like a bubble, the elemental stretched and then broke, falling off of Jaina as she stood, then reformed at her side.

It was, to Antonidas’ estimation, only the size of the average six year old, and bore no signs of the binding typical of the adult mages trained to summon them, which was, in and of itself, frightening in its display of wielded power.

“This way,” Jaina said, and tugged Antonidas up the beach. He opened his mouth to object, to point out quite rightly that they could teleport, and closed it.

Instead, he let Jaina, soaking and afraid as she was, lead the way. Antonidas looked up at the Keep, seeing how large it was, dark and half-shrouded in misting rain. On a clearer day, the cannon emplacements that he saw would be more obvious, and he could imagine them being rolled out, regardless of weather, to defend its occupants should invaders come to call.

The Second War was not so long ago that they had forgotten what it meant to be threatened so close to home.

~ * ~

“Archmage, please tell us what happens now,” Adriana said. She sat in her worn chair as though it were a throne, rigid and upright. When Jaina had brought Antonidas inside, and led him unerringly to her home within her home, her parents had pounced on her.

Daelin had been all rough embraces -- regardless of Jaina’s wet clothing -- and extracting promises from Jaina to not run away again, while Adriana had clung to thick towels and a robe, ushering her daughter away to help her change out of her soaked clothing, and Tandred had brought in a mug of steaming tea, ready for Jaina once she was dry.

It was, in all, supportive if not confused and worried, and Antonidas had simply explained she had been hiding, but not the extent of her gifts. While wizardry was an unusual but necessary profession like any other, sorcery was what people imagined when they conjured up frightening images of out of control magic users.

Not all of them were wrong, either.

 _She must be trained immediately, for all she is very young,_ Antonidas thought to himself as he studied the Proudmoores, a huddle of anxious family members, now joined by ex-Grand Admiral Amelia Proudmoore, who despite the inflammation in her joints looked as sharp-eyed as ever. “I would like to bring Jaina to Dalaran to study magic,” he began. “I understand that this incident was a frightening one, but it wasn’t the _first_ of such incidents, nor will it be the last. Magic -- sorcery -- left uncontrolled can be dangerous. Trained, controlled, understood, it can be a marvel.”

“How long would this be for, exactly?” Adriana asked, her tone tight, controlled. “She is very young, yet.”

“Adri, probably until she’s a full mage,” Daelin said, putting his hand on his wife’s shoulder. “I don’t know much about magic, but she’s not much younger than Derek or Tandred were when they started on the ships. Hellfire, I would have brought her with me when she was old enough too, if that’s how she wanted things.”

“I don’t _want_ to be a mage,” Jaina said. “I want to be a _Captain,_ like Da.”

Antonidas blinked, and blinked again. “You-- what?”

“I _hate_ magic!” Jaina cried. “All it does is hurt people.” Her thin shoulders began to shake, and Tandred rescued the tea before Daelin picked her up, wrapping his arms around her.

Somehow, she seemed smaller in her father’s embrace than ever before, as well as afraid.

“Is there nothing that can be done?” Adriana asked softly, and her tone belied the fact that her expression had not changed, and for a moment, Antonidas feared that the woman didn’t _care_ about her daughter.

 _The other logical conclusion is that something truly frightening happens to Gilnean royal and noblewomen._ Antonidas was sincerely tempted to tell her no, that the choices were training or self-destruction, but that wasn’t _quite_ true, and it was dangerous to lie to people, especially a family of such power within the Alliance. “There is one thing,” he said slowly. “It is possible to have the magic… sealed off. Removed. It is… dangerous, and not something we usually perform on children.”

“You’re talking criminals, aren’t you?” Amelia asked. Her voice was cracked, broken from years of time spent on the decks of ships, shouting orders and giving directions. She seemed to have a perpetual squint against blinding sunlight, and wind had weathered her already dark skin into leather, though her eyes were the same ocean-green as her son’s and grandson’s.

Next to them, Adriana looked like a pale shadow, and her daughter, a ghost.

“I am, yes,” Antonidas said. “There are two types of magic users among humans. Wizards are taught, like anyone else. I could have become a… a blacksmith or a librarian, and no harm could have come to me.” He would have done no such thing, his family had a heritage amongst the Dalarani that stretched back to the Hundred, and the idea of rejecting it for mundane occupations was appalling to him. “Sorcerers are born with their magic. It manifests in various ways, though often beginning at puberty. Jaina is quite young to be demonstrating it.”

“My daughter is special,” Adriana said, and the steel behind her words assured Antonidas that, come what may, this woman would stand behind Jaina. “What precisely does this have to do with removal?”

“A wizard requires tools,” Antonidas said. “Incantations, reagents, time. You saw a fraction of it. With study and dedication, anyone can become a wizard. The power is all around us.” That wasn’t quite a lie. Most people could _not_ become wizards, because they lacked patience, analysis, or were inclined to be caught up in their own emotions. Adriana, perhaps, would have made a good wizard, but Daelin, for all his bluster, would not. “A sorcerer requires none of these things. They _can_ use them if it helps, but their magic is spontaneous. Spontaneous means--”

“I know what it means,” Jaina interrupted, looking up. Her eyes were red, and her expression mulish. “It means you do magic on accident.”

“By accident,” Antonidas corrected automatically. Jaina stuck her tongue out, and it startled a laugh from him. She returned to the comfort of her father’s shoulder, and he continued. “It’s good enough to lock up wizards who have… failed in their duties to their people and to Azeroth, though we dislike the waste. There is no keeping a sorcerer from their magic. Should we deem a sorcerer too dangerous, but execution is too great a punishment, their magic can be sealed off, removed. There are, of course, consequences.”

Consequences like suicide, in most cases, but Antonidas didn’t dare bring that up in front of a frightened child.

“Take it away,” Jaina said, muffled. “I don’t want it. I don’t want to hurt people any more. I want to be _normal.”_

“Sunfish,” Daelin said gently. “Isn’t it a bit too soon for that? Y’ha’ nae e’en boarded th’ ship an’ yer already complainin’ ‘bout the smell, aye?”

Antonidas blinked at the shift of accent, from something similar enough to the Dalarani or the Lordamere, their neighbours, to something scraped from the Undercity of Lordaeron.

“But I dinnae _want_ to,” Jaina said, bursting into tears again. “I wanter be a _pirate.”_

“You _what?”_ Antonidas asked, disbelief overriding his restraint. “You have the most powerful gift that I’ve seen since the Orc Wars, and you want to be a… a…”

“Watch it, Toni,” Amelia said, giving him a hard look. “That’s our Jaina you’re talking about.”

It didn’t do to anger the woman who, by all accounts, had killed a leviathan with a handful of ships and sheer force of personality, and he took a breath. “Why do you wish to be a pirate, Jaina?”

The girl sniffled, and looked up. “Because _Jaina_ was a pirate, an’ I want to be just like her. I want to sail around the ocean fightin’ bad people and rescuin’ lost treasure. I want a ship an’ a crew an’ to be able to see Mother an’ Da and Grand-Dam all the time. Tandred too.”

 _This must be what going mad feels like,_ Antonidas thought. “Those are… very noble goals, but being a sorceress won’t stop you from doing any of those things, not if you wish to do them.”

“Ship’s training starts at twelve,” Tandred murmured to Antonidas. “If she spends all her time in Dalaran, she won’t learn much about ships.”

 _Kindly stop helping,_ Antonidas thought, glaring at the young man. Tandred held up his hands in surrender.

“Jaina,” Adriana said, and gestured her over. The girl slipped from her father’s grip, and went to her mother, who cupped her cheeks with both hands, gaze darting over her daughter’s face. “When I was young, but not much older than you are now, my father sent me to Kul Tiras, to meet your father and your grandparents. I thought I would hate it. I thought I would be miserable and alone. Your father’s family taught me how to see the beauty of the Isles and its people. I have never looked back because of how much I love it. You don’t have to love your magic, or Dalaran, but before you decide you hate it, you should at least see what the Archmage has in store for you. Will you try, heart of my heart? Will you try for me?”

Jaina was quiet for a moment, seeming to think it over. Her mother didn’t rush her. “I’ll get to see Finn, right? And Kelnar?”

Adriana’s lips twitched, and Antonidas realized it was a fond smile. “Finnall is away for her training, but I’m sure she’ll come visit you, and yes, you’ll be able to see Kelnar every day, if she isn’t busy.”

 _Let it be enough,_ Antonidas thought, with a vehemence that surprised even himself. _Let this be what convinces her not to rob herself of such a great gift._

As it transpired, it was. Jaina nodded, and Adriana leaned forward, hugging her daughter tightly, and the Proudmoores converged on one another, hugging and murmuring until the Archmage of Dalaran, leader of the Six, keeper of the ancient Tome of Medivh and countless other artifacts, felt quite out of place.

“We’ll pack your things,” Adriana murmured. “You must practice your writing and write us as often as you can. We want to hear about your studies.”

“Okay,” Jaina said softly, clinging to her mother. “I promise.”


	2. Early Spring, Y14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Sunwell Plateau, Quel’thalas  
>  Early Spring, Y14_

It was almost always sunny in Quel’thalas, and today was no different. The sun shone down, glittering on the golden scrollwork of the Sunwell Plateau. The carpets surrounding the great wellspring of arcane power were deep crimson, edged with yet more gold, and covered the entirety of the floor. The alcoves held statues of great figures, the powerful mages that had been part of the first Circle of Quel’thalas. At their head, directly across from the High Channeler’s platform, was the statue of Dath’remar the Sunstrider, first of his House, his arms outstretched as though he could reach out and touch the arcane magic that spread like a spiderweb throughout the nation he had founded some six thousand years earlier.

His most recent descendants were there now, the father, Anasterian, and the son, Kael’thas. Anasterian’s stern features were creased into a frown as he monitored the ebb and flow of magic. It all had to be kept just right, and society had long worked with those fluctuations, dictating rest periods when there was less magic to be used, and activity when there was more of it. While the oceans might dance to the whims of the twin moons, Elune and Malorne, it was the land that acquiesced to the might of the Sunwell.

To Anasterian’s right was Shelem’vor Firesong, and his ancestor, Adaraxiel the Fire’s Song, stood in similar position to Dath’remar, a reflection of his family’s status as the Second House of Quel’thalas, a position that came with authority, responsibility, and duty.

“The Runestones in the Shadowed Forests sector are fucked,” Shelem’vor said, bluntly. “They’re straining too hard without the Caer Darrow keystone. We need a new one, sometime this decade at least. The gap’s too big.”

Anasterian glanced up at the statue at Dath’remar’s left, depicting a woman, cradling an ornately carved stone in her arms. A pretty fiction; the Runestones of Quel’thalas were almost as large as a house, and oddly slabby and inelegant compared to the sweeping, graceful lines of elven architecture. Most houses, however, didn’t channel the raw arcane energy of the Sunwell into a shield, precious and capable of defending the elves from the demons of ancient days.

“Well, if you know how to produce one without certain individuals having fits, you are welcome to that task,” Anasterian replied coldly. “In the mean time, I need to deal with the practical and the now.”

“Edelle is sick,” Shelem’vor said bluntly. He was a tall, elegant man, with long, sweeping blond hair and glittering green eyes, though it was a description that fit many elves, including his king. His face was longer and a bit narrower than Anasterian’s, which had a tendency towards square-jaw, and he had cultivated a deliberately careless air about him, as though he said outrageous things by accident instead of sharpening his words into a blade to plunge into the back of the unwary. “She’s been sick for years, and before that, she wasn’t exactly welcome at the Runekeeper Enclave.”

“Considering her general demeanour, that isn’t entirely surprising.” Anasterian could feel the gap, of course. He could feel the spot of darkness in the great web where the defenses couldn’t quite touch and the spells that managed the forests had unraveled. Instead of elegant, sculpted trees and clear pathways, things ran wild there in the darkness instead of the ruthless, endless light. Instead of controlled, carefully selected animals, meant to create a balance to keep the eternal cycle of spring and summer going, anything could be there, creatures wild and dangerous.  _ At least, considering its location, it isn’t likely to cause issues even with the weather control spells disabled. _

Anasterian frowned at the very thought, and tried to stretch the defenses out a little more.

“The only person more stubborn than Edelle is you,” Shelem’vor pointed out, and Anasterian looked up sharply, and ignored the intake of breath from his son, whom he was choosing not to acknowledge at this moment. “Go to her. Apologize. Offer to reinstate her branch of the family. It’s not like there are a lot of them left.”

“Is her daughter a mage?” Anasterian asked instead.

“Well, no,” Shelem’vor said slowly, and resignation stole over his expression, as he realized this conversation would turn down the same pathways that so many others had. “Laurelei is training as a paladin.”

“In Silvermoon?”

“...in Lordaeron,” Anasterian’s majordomo admitted. “Her choice, but Edelle approved it, despite the distance.”

“I can certainly see how much Quel’thalas’ security means to her then,” Anasterian replied bitingly. “Though the Sunguard is selective about those it chooses to initiate into its ranks.”

“Maybe she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life on Quel’Danas, guarding something that doesn’t move and hasn’t truly been threatened since its creation,” interjected Kael’thas, which brought both men’s attention to him. “Father, Shel.”

_ What could be so important that he came all the way here to interrupt?  _ Anasterian thought, irritated, and returned his attention back to his task.

~ * ~

“Hello, Kael,” Shelem’vor said in the ensuing silence, smiling quickly. “Kylian with you?”

“He’s just outside,” Kael said, and took a step forward. Like both of them, Kael wore red and gold robes, though each had a different pattern: his father’s robes had solar iconography -- rays of light, golden discs, sometimes even ripples that represented shimmering heat -- while Shel’s had musical notes and scores, a reference to his family’s unique method for controlling flame. His own robes had endless patterns of a firebird flying, exploring, chasing its own plumed tail, and sometimes, he felt a little too small in them, as though he could be lost in their depths at any time.

“Kael’thas,” Anasterian said, and let his concentration fade. “What brings you here?”

“I wanted to see you,” Kael said. “There’s something I wanted to discuss with you. I was told that you were busy here.”

“I  _ am  _ busy here,” Anasterian noted sternly. “But since you have disrupted my concentration for something  _ you  _ wanted, you may as well tell me and get it over with.”

Kael faltered, his carefully practiced words tasting like ash in his mouth. His gaze shifted from his father’s disapproval to Shel, who smiled encouragingly.

“Tell us what’s on your mind,” Shel urged. “Is it something from the Conclave?”

Kael winced slightly. The Conclave of Silvermoon was the name of the government of Quel’thalas that Anasterian presided over. Each member -- representing the major and minor noble elven houses -- met with some frequency to discuss matters of state. There were no political parties, as there were in some places, no unified forces, merely one hundred individuals who each wanted something and were keen to get their way.

_ You can do this,  _ Kael thought to himself.  _ You can.  _ “No, it’s something personal, for me. As you’re aware, I have completed my studies in Quel’thalas. My mastery over manipulation of the arcane meets even the highest possible standards of the Circle. I feel that you agree.”

Anasterian, who was the leader of the Circle, along with the First Speaker of the Conclave and the King of Quel’thalas, made a noise that was either noncommittal or assenting, depending on how cynical one felt.

“You definitely are, you’re very talented,” Shel said reassuringly. “There isn’t much more for you to learn here, not when it comes to pure magic. If you were interested in taking on a specialty or, say, a craft--”

“No,” Kael said, and ducked his head when Shel raised an eyebrow. The majordomo gestured for him to keep going, and he ploughed on. “But there are  _ other  _ places that teach magic, like Stormwind, and Dalaran.”

“Dalaran?” Anasterian repeated, incredulous. “What could you possibly learn in Dalaran?”

“A great deal, I believe,” Kael said. “They have an open, cooperative partnership with Quel’thalas, exchanging ideas and information, and they have the largest elven population outside of Quel’thalas and its controlled territories. Owing to the way human mages -- and dwarven and gnomish ones -- learn, it would be a valuable learning experience to see how they grow and develop.” When he stopped, and Anasterian was silent, he added, “I feel.”

“As Heir, you have a duty to your people and your kingdom,” Anasterian reminded him, and disappointment seeped into the whole of Kael’s very being. “You are young, and unused to the full responsibilities of your station. If you are simply  _ bored  _ here, I can certainly assign you more tasks to complete.”

“...and wouldn’t making sure our relationship with Dalaran doesn’t fall into ruins because we’ve never sent anyone more highly placed than a teacher help with that?” Shel asked, and offered Kael a smile. Anasterian’s frown soured. “You know Antonidas has been after us to reestablish the link after the… the Archive was destroyed.”

“It isn’t destroyed,” Anasterian said tightly. “Your precious Edelle was quite clear in that regard. It’s merely understaffed.”

“...and we can get more staff if we strengthen the bond between our two nations,” Shel reminded him. Anasterian was silent, his face growing more pinched and annoyed with each passing second.

_ This isn’t going to work,  _ Kael thought despairingly.  _ If he won’t listen to Shel, he won’t listen to  _ anyone.

“Very well,” Anasterian said finally. “Go to Dalaran, strengthen our bond, and at least attempt to squeeze some kind of worth from the education of your inferiors.”

“Thank you, Father,” Kael breathed. “Thank you so much, you won’t regret this.”

Anasterian merely returned his attention back to the Sunwell, delving once again into the darkness marring the perfection of the arcane net. Kael waited a little longer, wondering if his father would wish him luck, or even say goodbye. As the moment stretched, he looked to Shel, who was waiting for the same thing.

Kael’s back straightened as anger moved through him in a wave. He raised his chin, so very like his father’s own, spun on heel, and marched out.

“Annan, the least you could do is say goodbye to your fucking  _ son--” _

“So,” Kylian said, rising from his artful slump against one of the walls, drowning out what Anasterian’s reply might be. “How’d it go?”

“We’re going,” Kael snapped. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“My favourite thing to do, lounge around while someone else does my packing,” Kylian noted. “Let’s go.”

Kael began to walk, hurrying and trying not to look it. Already he wanted to be free of this place of power and pretension, to shake off its solar dust and be free.

That was the real reason he wanted to go to Dalaran, after all, but when you were the sole child of the leader of one of the nations of the Alliance, you didn’t just run away from home so you could have the privacy to cry and rage.

Even if you desperately wanted to.

General Dorozhand met them outside the Sunwell Pavilion. He was resplendent in golden armour, with pauldrons carved in the shape of wings, and the visage of a phoenix worked into his breastplate. He was the leader of the Sunguard, and personally responsible for training both the Sun Paladins and the Spellbreakers, though by very different methods.

Because Kael was the Prince, and Kylian was his second, protocol dictated that they couldn’t wander around the Isle unescorted. Manners equally dictated a large escort to accompany the General, so there was a sizeable guard with him consisting of four paladins and six spellbreakers. All ten stood at rigid attention, bearing massive shields painted crimson and gold, and while the paladins bore swords with ornate hilts, usually in the shape of birds, the Spellbreakers carried huge double-bladed glaives, meant to be spun, thrown, and collected from the corpses of their foes.

Kael had never quite liked Spellbreakers, being a mage himself, but he nodded politely to them anyway. One of them, the youngest by his reckoning, nodded back, and Dorozhand snapped at her.

“Goldensword, at attention,” he ordered, and turned his attention to Kael. Over Dorozhand’s shoulder, he could see the girl swallow heavily, tension in her jaw, and lock her sea-green gaze front. She had chestnut brown hair, which was rare in elves, and her skin seemed a shade darker than most. “Your Highness, Your Grace, is your business here completed?”

“It is, General,” Kael said, nodding to him. “We may leave.”

Dorozhand gestured, and the escort moved around them, walking them along the narrow radial pathway that led away from the Pavilion and towards the small, private dock. There were a few boats here, ornate and flat, meant for only a handful of people, and utterly useless on the high seas. The distance between the Isle of Quel’Danas, created through careful land sculpting to cut it off from the mainland, and Silvermoon itself, was minor, barely more than an inconvenience, but one that allowed them to control the number of people arriving and departing the Sunwell Plateau closely, which was a valuable security measure, all things considered.

“Goldensword, Spellweaver,” Dorozhand barked. “Escort our noble guests back to the mainland.”

“As you command, General,” the pair -- one paladin, one Spellbreaker-- chorused, and Spellweaver stepped onto the boat, offering his hands to first Kael, then Kylian, and helping settle them, while Goldensword worked quickly to untie the anchor rope, then took up a pole and  pushed off from the shore, still standing, her stance sure.

“You’re pretty good at that,” Kylian observed. “Do this often?”

Kael continued to observe the Spellbreaker, finding her appearance curious. Her ears seemed slightly off, and the glow of her eyes seemed duller, less striking, than most people he’d seen.

“Finnall’s from somewhere they have lots of little boats, aren’t you?” Spellweaver observed, finding his own footing with some care.

“Koltira, shut up,” Goldensword hissed. “The Prince doesn’t want to hear about that.”

“She’s from Dalaran,” Koltira noted, amused by his companion’s discomfort. “And Kul Tiras.”

As Finnall’s cheeks flamed up, dark with embarrassment, Kael realized what he must mean.  _ She’s Shano’dorei, then. A half-elf as the humans call them. I wonder how she managed to be accepted into training with the General? _

“That’s really cool,” Kylian said. “You must be very talented.”

“I am… in training,” Finnall managed. “For a few seasons now, since it was safe to travel over land again.”

_ After the Wars,  _ was the silent addendum, and the four of them grew silent. The journey back was not a long one, but in the silence, it felt much longer.

~ * ~

“I didn’t think they were going to let me go,” Kael explained to his friends as they sat, draped in various positions around his apartments, as the golems held up clothing for his inspection, to return to his vast closets or be packed away into trunks. “Father mostly seemed to think I was doing it on a whim.”

“You  _ are  _ doing it on a whim,” Rommath reminded him, perched on one of the many low couches, frowning at Kael. “And I agree with him, there’s nothing useful you can learn from humans. If you want to get away from the Conclave, just go to one of your estates and spend a season or two there.”

“Don’t be an ass, Romm,” Kylian said, lying on Kael’s bed, stomach down, chin propped on his hands. Rommath glared at him. “Just because  _ you  _ like to play Demon’s Advocate for the Isolationists, doesn’t mean you actually have to sound like one.”

“You can’t deny the significance of Dalaran’s history in relation to our own,” Ghlorine pointed out, smoothing her skirts as she sat on one of the high chairs by the vanity table. She, like Rommath, had long, dark hair, though hers fell in soft curls, and her eyes were a full, luminous violet, while Rommath’s were as dark as stormy seas, and the latter tended to watch the former whenever she spoke.

The Sunsorrows had successfully negotiated for her engagement to Kael after a decade of talks between representatives, clear through the Orc Wars, and after all that effort, Kael was thankful daily that they had cultivated a friendship rather than the coldly courteous relationships that normally occurred between noble couples.

“A footnote after the Troll Wars,” Rommath said stiffly. “Barely worth remembering.”

“How many Guardians have been elves?” Voren’thal wondered, though the question could have been rhetorical. Voren’thal was the most delicate of them, pale of skin and hair, white-blond, and even his eyes were soft blue, washed out to near silver. He sat near Ghlorine, and she touched his shoulder now and then to reassure him that she was there. “How many members of the Six? Even the Tirisfalen had elves counted among their members. Our ancestors taught them magic and they can teach us much in return.”

“Our own tricks back to us,” snorted Rommath, and Voren’thal’s head tilted slightly towards him as he spoke, his gaze focused on something distant.

Voren’thal, one of the most talented up-and-coming Seers, was entirely blind, and had been for many years.

“They’re more willing to combine the arcane with the mechanical, despite the difficulties,” pointed out Pathaleon, the only redhead among them, toying with a small cube the size of two fingers in every direction. As he spoke, it whirred and clicked in constant rhythm, granting him focus. “The gnomes mostly don’t bother with the arcane, and the dwarves prefer their forge magics or the Holy Light.”

In near perfect unison, all of them save Voren’thal rolled their eyes.

“So, we each have our reasons for going, or not,” Ghlorine concluded. “What about you, Kylian? Why are  _ you  _ going?”

“Oh, I’m definitely planning on slacking,” Kylian said cheerfully. “Eat human food, date human men, maybe take in the sights. It’s like a vacation.”

“Kylian,  _ please,”  _ Rommath muttered. “At least pretend to be useful.”

“Why, when you’re so good at doing it for the both of us?” Kylian asked, flashing him a grin. Rommath scowled darkly.

“I want to thank you all for doing this,” Kael said, turning his attention from the golem as the last of his six chests were filled. “I know I’m disrupting your lives and your own goals, but I need to do this. I need time, and space, away from Silvermoon. Rommath, if you really don’t want to go, you don’t have to. I know you’re uncomfortable with humans. Only Kylian  _ has  _ to go with me, as my second. The rest of you can stay here, where you’ll be more comfortable.”

“Kael’thas,” said Voren’thal softly, and reached out a hand. Kael moved to him and took it, holding it tightly. “I believe I speak for all of us when I say that we would follow you anywhere.”

Kael smiled, and lifted Voren’s hand to his lips, so he could feel it. “Thank you. We’re scheduled to leave in an hour. We should all be ready by then.”

“We will be,” Ghlorine promised, smiling up at Kael with approval. “Let’s all go to the magical kingdom of Dalaran.”

~ * ~

As a symbol of the cooperation between Alliance nations, each of the capital cities had a massive portal room, anchored to a nearby ley node or ley line -- if none was available, that severely limited the usability of said portals -- and through these, any citizen could travel between the cities at will.

Some claimed the  _ real  _ reason Stromgarde had left the Alliance was because the mages of Dalaran had dared suggest they would need to install such a room within its ancient pile of stone, mortar, and thinly veiled contempt for mage-kind, and they would rather break their word to Terenas Menethil and Varian Wrynn than suffer mages inside their city-state.

In Quel’thalas, the portal room was located in Sunfury Spire, in the main chamber, and was available to all, so long as they had permission to travel, despite the grousing of the Isolationists, who would see them closed. Compared to the humans, whose entire history was a series of rage-and-pride induced migratory patterns that resulted in the founding of nations, the elves traveled very rarely, and when they did, they did not travel light.

Kael’thas inhaled slowly, trying to fix this moment of departure in his mind. Around him, his friends were holding their travel documentation in their hands, stamped with the authorization of the King -- in reality, this was done by minor functionaries, but Anasterian could have put a hold on any travel papers he cared to, and hadn’t. He was letting them go, or rather, he didn’t  _ care  _ if they went or not.

_ Perhaps Father doesn’t think I’m sincere,  _ Kael thought bitterly.  _ Or it could be that Shel reamed him out enough for one day. _

They were not the only ones traveling, and Kael could see the portal to Lordaeron lit up, glowing with power. On the other side was a circular room where human attendants would check identification again, take charge of luggage, and usher the new arrivals through the corridors of Whitestone Castle. Elven guests would be surprised, disappointed, and a little contemptuous to have people hauling their luggage to guest rooms or transport, rather than the arcane constructs that took care of such things in Quel’thalas.

_ The constructs don’t work outside our borders,  _ Kael reminded himself as his own things, along with the others, were loaded onto wheeled carts, meant to be easy for humans to push, or enchant.  _ At least in Dalaran, there’s  _ some  _ magic to deal with the physical labour. I don’t know how anyone else can stand it. _

“It all seems to be in order,” noted one of the portal attendants, and pointed. “Dalaran Portal, right that way. Continue walking at a steady, consistent pace.”

“We’re mages, we know how to use a portal,” Rommath snapped. Kylian put a hand on his arm, and smiled sweetly.

“Hey,” he said. “Shut the fuck up.” As Rommath bristled, Kylian flashed a grin at the attendant. “Thanks for the advice.”

“O-of course, Magister Firesong,” said the attendant, blushing. “Have a good journey.”

“Sure thing, hot stuff,” Kylian replied, and took Rommath by the elbow, tugging him with little gentleness towards the portal, which swallowed them, presumably to appear safely on the other side.

Ghlorine had Voren’thal’s arm secured in hers, guiding him towards the portal shortly after. In his free hand, he held a cane, ornate and golden, shimmering softly with magical light. It was a simple cantrip to produce the effect; the interweaving of spells that would offer him flashes of insight as to objects nearby, allowing him to avoid them, was far more complex. Others preferred floating arcane familiars to guide their steps, but considering Voren’s considerable, prodigious talent with scrying, the cane seemed more appropriate.

Lagging behind was Pathaleon, clicking and flipping and whirring as he eyed the portal with some dislike.

“Having second thoughts?” Kael asked, trying not to worry. It was wrong to pressure one’s friends into decisions, but in the time it had taken to conceive his plan, tell his friends, convince his father, and then actually go, he’d become married to the notion of having  _ all  _ his friends with him in Dalaran.

“No, just… trying to make my feet go,” Pathaleon muttered. Kael considered, and offered him his arm, on the side that he wasn’t toying with the cube. Pathaleon smiled at him, and took it. “Thanks.”

“It’s just like stepping through a doorway, if that helps,” Kael said, and squeezed his arm. Ghlorine and Voren had disappeared, and now it was their turn.

Visitors returning from Dalaran would be forced to wait until the way was clear, but they could wait a little longer for Pathaleon’s sake.

“Just like a doorway,” he repeated, and nodded. They walked to the portal together, and stepped through. It was, and wasn’t, exactly how Kael described it. It was like walking through a doorway in the pitch dark, and it felt as though the presence of a floor wasn’t completely guaranteed until the last moment.

Some described it as stepping off a cliff into an abyss without being sure if it was infinite, or very small.

On the other side, the portal was three times as busy as it was in Silvermoon: there were more attendants, and plenty of people standing in queues, waiting patiently for their turn to step through. Kael glanced backwards, and noted the frame around the portal to Quel’thalas glowed purple.

“That means we’re receiving, rather than sending,” said a human woman cheerfully. “Welcome to the magical kingdom of Dalaran, home of Archmage Antonidas of the Six and the Kirin Tor. Please keep moving, so that we can continue receiving visitors and luggage.”

“Thank you,” said Kael, and steered Pathaleon to where the others were having their identification checked  _ again  _ and waiting for their luggage.

“Is it supposed to be this busy?” Pathaleon wondered. “It was so quiet on the other side.”

“Time difference,” Kylian said. “World’s curved like an ass, and our part of the ass cheek is further on in the day than Dalaran’s is. That’s why we left in the early evening, so we could be here in the afternoon. Wait until we spend the next week suffering from portal lag.”

“You have  _ such  _ a way with words,” Rommath muttered, and glared at a trio of human children, who were staring.

“I can’t help how I was born, buttercup,” Kylian replied carelessly, and waved to the children with his free hand. Confused between hostility and cheer, the children whispered to one another and hurried off.

“I’ll help  _ you,”  _ Rommath hissed back, and lapsed into silence as they waited for the other travelers to come through, and then finally, their luggage, before the portal’s colours switched from purple to blue, and the queue of people moved through, one to three at a time.

“So, what’s the plan now?” Ghlorine asked, to forestall any further argument. “Where is it that we’re actually  _ going  _ in Dalaran?”

“We’re supposed to have an escort,” Kael said. “I requested someone who could appropriately deal with our living arrangements, and we have a meeting with Archmage Antonidas to discuss our presence here. All we have to do is wait.”

Wait, they did. They waited as their luggage was offloaded onto the platform next to them. They watched as the portals continued to receive and send off travelers. Kael listened as Rommath and Kylian had six separate arguments in the span of four hours -- Dalaran had a handful of enchanted clock faces that displayed the time in the places the portals led to, and Kael could see that it had gone past afternoon, into early evening, then hinting into late evening -- while they shuffled positions, sometimes sitting, sometimes standing, occasionally pacing a little ways from the luggage and back again.

“Do you think they’re coming?” Kylian asked in an undertone, watching Rommath stalk across to the entrance of the portal room, glare, and return. Ghlorine and Voren were sitting on one of the trunks, dozing, their heads resting against one another’s like birds on a tree branch. Pathaleon sat a little apart from them, staring off into space while his fingers worked, mind distant and nearly impossible to reach.

“I have to accept the idea that we’ve been forgotten,” Kael admitted. “I don’t know who else to contact, I didn’t have a second choice. I figured having the Archmage himself meet us would be enough. We could try moving through the city on our own, but with all of this luggage to bring with us...”

“Fuck,” Kylian said, concisely and eloquently. “So, while I can sleep anywhere, and Ghlor and Voren are already getting started, we probably should figure something out. Maybe ask someone?”

Kael rubbed his face with one hand, exhausted. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“That’s the spirit, because while I  _ can  _ sleep anywhere, I’d rather sleep  _ on  _ someone.”

“You’re such an insatiable cock-hound, Kylan’thas,” Rommath declared as he returned. “The streets are mostly cleared if we want to take the baggage train out of this garbage pile.”

“Dicks don’t suck themselves, unless you’re  _ really  _ flexible,” Kylian replied with an edged smile.

“Don’t start, please,” Kael warned. “Think of the bystanders.”

“At least it would be something to  _ do,”  _ Rommath muttered, and settled against one of the stacks of trunks.

“And here I thought that members of the first and highest houses of Quel’thalas would possess some modicum of dignity. It appears that I am entirely mistaken.”

Kael turned towards the speaker, and couldn’t help but be slightly disappointed that this was not, in fact, Archmage Antonidas. It was, however, an elf, a man who must have been two or three times Kael’s own age, but who seemed ageless in the way fully adult elves often did. His hair was a deep, honey blond, and his eyes a bright, almost depthless gold. His robes were red and gold, standard in Quel’thalas, though in Dalaran, he must have stood out against all the blue, purple, and white.

“Did you come here to mock us, or to help?” Rommath demanded, nettled.

“That depends on who you ask, truthfully,” the man replied. “My name is Krasus Goldenmist, and I am a member of the Six. I fear Archmage Antonidas was called away for an emergency. That’s why he was unable to meet with you. I myself have only recently returned to Dalaran, and offered to fulfill his duty. I see that you’ll be staying with us a while.” He gestured with one hand towards the baggage train, and Kael noted that his fingernails were unusually long, and painted gold.

“We will be, yes,” Kael said, before Rommath or Kylian could ruin things. “We were told that we had rooms ready, and I was to meet with the Archmage as soon as possible after arrival.”

“You’ll have to wait on the meeting, I suspect,” Krasus noted. “I didn’t find any specific living arrangements, but something can be done temporarily.” He waved his hand, and the trunks disappeared. Rommath stumbled and swore, and Ghlorine and Voren’thal fell, the former squeaking at her rude awakening, while the latter simply rolled over and continued to sleep.

Pathaleon, who had seen it coming, had jumped up at the last moment.

_ Not as lost in his own world as I’d thought,  _ Kael noted. “Where did you send them?”

“Oh, the Citadel,” Krasus said cheerfully. “Any further and your luggage might have wound up anywhere from here to Alterac.”

“The Kirin Tor let just  _ anyone  _ become an Archmage, don’t they?” Rommath muttered. Kylian and Pathaleon turned to help Ghlorine to her feet, and wake Voren gently.

“Oh, young man,” Krasus said, tucking his hands back into his sleeves. “You have  _ no  _ idea.”


	3. Early Spring, Y14

**** Once Jaina’s parents had extracted the promise from her to at least  _ see  _ Dalaran before making her final decision, her things had been packed into a watertight trunk that seemed to be far too small considering all that was in it. Antonidas would have suspected magic, were it not for the explanations about packing for sea journeying that had been as forthcoming as they were deeply headache-inducing.

Having that settled, Antonidas had sent the trunk ahead with a wave of his hand, while waiting for Jaina to be dressed for the journey. Somewhere along the way, Adriana Proudmoore had caught the notion that this was a formal occasion, and so dressed Jaina in her best.

Her best, in this case, was a dark blue jacket with gold buttons and an anchor embroidered on the breast pocket, and matching trousers along with sturdy but clean shoes, and a white and navy-blue cap bearing an identical insignia.

In the hopes of enchanting Jaina as so many young hopefuls had been impressed before, Antonidas teleported them not directly into the city, but to the gates that bordered the city proper, with Dalaran’s farmlands behind them.

Jaina craned her neck to look up, and up, at the city’s skyline. “It’s really purple.”

Antonidas stifled a sigh. “Yes, it’s quite purple. Purple is the colour chosen by the people of Dalaran to represent them on a global scale, and mages tend to prefer it in general.”

“I like blue more,” Jaina said, as though that were the end of it. He offered her his hand. She ignored it, and started to walk. He did sigh, this time, and followed. The gates were open -- they closed only when the city was threatened by physical assault -- so the pair made their way along the road that led to one of the four great bridges spanning Lake Dalaran, the twin to Lake Lordamere.

“Where’re your ships?” Jaina asked, stopping abruptly to look up at him. Antonidas blinked.

“Well, we have some sailing vessels that people take around the lake, rowboats--”

“They’re not the same  _ thing,”  _ Jaina chided him, and Antonidas felt himself bristle with the effrontery of it. “Those’re kid stuff. Where are your  _ ships?  _ If you got attacked by pirates, they’d run out the cannonade and then you’d be f--”

“Jaina,” Antonidas interrupted swiftly. “We don’t have pirates on lakes, and few people would dare attack us, because we have a reputation as dangerous, fierce defenders. They prefer the easier, softer targets in the south.”

Jaina frowned. “Well,  _ that’s  _ a shame. They could really take you by surprise.”

“Well, should we ever be attacked by a force we can’t handle from the lake, we will certainly be surprised,” Antonidas said.  _ Raids from traitors and abominations notwithstanding, though. With preparation, we surely would have done better. _

The bridge was large, meant to accept huge, laden carts from the farmlands, but unlike many roads traveled by draft animals or cattle, this bridge was spotlessly cleaned, and Antonidas could feel the enchantments that had gone into it seep into his bones.

With the absence of the Guardian -- where ‘absence’ was a polite term for Medivh’s possession by a Demonlord, betrayal of Azeroth, the Tirisfalen, and the Kirin Tor, and then death -- some had worried that the use of magic on trivial things would bring the demons down on their heads again. The alternative, which was losing all of Dalaran's conveniences - including streets that could not be mired in muck and animal filth, preserving food in cold boxes that never failed, and a flawless sewer system that never smelled or back up - was met with varyingly polite degrees of ‘no’.

_ And so we risk damnation and potential annihilation because none of us want to acknowledge the fact that shit stinks, and rolls downhill,  _ Antonidas thought cynically, and shook himself.  _ Now I’m picking up their language. Ridiculous. _

Once they came to the crest of the bridge, Jaina stopped, and made a soft noise at the sight of the city proper. Dalaran was a large city, but the buildings were packed together more tightly than places like Boralus, which needed room for drainage, Lordaeron, which had been a series of smaller villages that had been swallowed by Whitestone many centuries in the past, or Azeroth, which had once been like Lordaeron, until its destruction and rebirth at the hands of the orcs. The architect who had designed it had wanted things to be a little more organized, and defensible, as a result.

Dalaran, however, was old, but built by and for mages primarily. The buildings were like books crammed onto shelves, close in and snug against one another. Their height brought books to mind as well, stacking floor upon floor like a perilous pile of volumes, whereas most human buildings were still limited to two floors.

_ Three, I suppose,  _ Antonidas mused,  _ if one counts the basement, which half of those other houses don’t have, other than a dark hole in the ground to store perishables. We have basements of our own, much to our own peril, considering those laboratories of dubious legality are the number one cause of fires, flooding, and out of control creature swarms. _

Antonidas had, many times in the past, been called to deal with all such issues, almost exclusively caused by wards that had been worn away by time and neglect, or missing due to sheer negligence.

_ Another reason to cling to our enchantments,  _ Antonidas reflected as Jaina began to walk again, and he followed.  _ They keep fires from spreading and the streets from flooding. Without them we might lose huge swathes of the city when things go wrong, and with mages, something always does go wrong eventually. _

Despite what some might believe, Antonidas was not, in fact, consumed by the arrogance of his station. He had been Archmage for many years, from before the Orc Wars, and he had seen much in his time. Knowing how delicately Dalaran was balanced at times consumed his thoughts, and it was times like this, times when he could personally introduce a new student to the city, that made him remember the weight of his decisions.

_ Perhaps the new students will find a way to do things better, innovate and carry us into the future while others like to dwell in the past. It would certainly be a future to look forward to, and a proud legacy to leave behind me. _

“Are you  _ coming?”  _ Jaina demanded, startling him. “You’re falling behind!”

“Ah, so I am,” Antonidas said. “Forgive me. I’m supposed to be giving  _ you  _ the tour.” He gestured ahead of them. “This is the Golden Walk. It leads towards the Violet Citadel, the heart of magical learning in Dalaran. We have many people living in the city, and all of us need things, so branching from this road are the residential districts, that way, closer to the lake, and further in, the markets. Both are fairly sizeable. We also have parks, cafes, restaurants, and even a theatre. We combine magic and live actors to put on shows for the entertainment.”

Jaina looked around, sometimes going on her toes as if she could see through the cramped city blocks, and then down. “Are all your roads yellow?”

“No,” Antonidas said. “Only the ones that lead directly to the Citadel. If you ever become lost while here, all you would have to do is follow the gold-paved streets. It isn’t real gold, by the way, but it certainly looks good for visitors.”

“Hm,” Jaina said. “Follow the yellow brick road?”

“Yes,” Antonidas conceded. “Follow the yellow brick road.”

“Follow the yellow brick road,” Jaina repeated, and began to walk again, murmuring ‘follow’ to herself all the while.

_ I suppose that will have to do,  _ Antonidas said.  _ ‘Navigate the Golden Walk’ may be a little too high brow for a child, no matter how clever. _

Dalaran’s streets were busy at all hours, as people shopped, traveled, and otherwise went about their daily lives. Few paused to greet or even consider the Archmage who walked among them. He was not a king, to confine himself to his castle. He wasn’t  _ quite  _ as familiar with his people as Daelin Proudmoore was, but then Daelin worked alongside his people almost every day of a year at sea, and awe was a distraction that could get you killed at an inopportune moment.

If he wasn’t careful, Jaina would get away from him.

_ I have just enough dignity not to want to run, but not enough not to hurry,  _ he thought, and increased his pace. He liked to think that, despite his years, he was in good shape, a habit he cultivated by taking jogs at odd hours, and it was presently paying off quite nicely.

At least his charge was faithfully following the yellow-painted walkway, and not diving into the crowd.

The Violet Citadel loomed high above the rest of the city, and was home not only to the Violet Spire Academy -- the belief that mages lived in towers was only partially true, and this was why -- but the residences of the Six, their offices, and the Chamber of the Six, where debates were held regarding the affairs of the city, the Kirin Tor, and often the rest of the world. A second set of gates, these ones almost always closed, held the rest of Dalaran at bay, a little bit more aloof.

It was a city within a city, and one that only mages and their immediate guests could enter.

“Welcome back, Archmage,” said one of the doorkeepers, bowing her head politely. “And guest.”

“Thank you, Jyllian,” Antonidas said, as Jaina waved. “How fares your wife?”

“Quite well, thank you, Archmage,” Jyllian replied, and touched her cap. “Flowers are coming up nicely.”

“Good to hear. This is Jaina Proudmoore, and she will be staying with us for a time,” he said. “She is welcome within the Citadel.”

“Jaina Proudmoore is welcome in the Citadel,” the doorkeeper repeated, a little too loudly, and Jaina shivered.

“I feel tingly,” Jaina said, and scowled up at the woman. “You made me tingly.”

“Security spells,” Jyllian said, smiling down. “Nothing to worry about.”

“You’ll want to see inside,” Antonidas promised Jaina as the gates opened. “Thank you, Jyllian. Have a good night.”

“Have a good night, Archmage, Ms. Proudmoore,” the woman replied, touching her cap again. Jaina mumbled her own thanks and was ushered inside the gates, and up the golden steps into the Citadel proper. The doors swung open for them, and then closed behind.

The sheer difference in noise volume made Jaina stick her finger in her ear and shake vigorously. Antonidas chuckled, and even that sound was muffled.

“We keep things quiet in here,” he explained. “So that people can work and study comfortably, without sharp or sudden noises. Many mages are easily distracted or disturbed by such. That doesn’t mean you can run or scream like a hellion, however. Be considerate to your fellow mage.”

“I’m  _ not  _ a mage yet,” Jaina said, and her wonder fell away into sullen dislike. Antonidas sighed, and pointed her towards the many offices, and the great library that occupied three floors of the Citadel as they climbed the long, sweeping staircase that led past the library, and towards the administrative floors.

“You’ll have the chance to visit the library soon,” Antonidas promised. “Though, many mages have their own personal collections, and the market sells copies of most of the books held in the library. Some prefer to be able to make notes on their own books, while others are distrustful of later printings. Still others may not have the coin to pay out for so many books and so they prioritize their purchases carefully.”

“Okay,” Jaina said sulkily, and Antonidas tried for a different tactic.

“We have many librarians and assistants to answer all of your questions,” Antonidas said. “Any subject you can think of, they are conversant in, and the librarians are mages themselves, though their assistants are not. Library-Mages require additional education, and--”

_ “Okay,”  _ Jaina said again, more emphatically.

_ This may be more difficult than one might hope,  _ Antonidas thought. “My office is just this way.”

This time, Jaina didn’t even bother to reply, and instead of hurrying ahead, she began to trail behind him. Antonidas led her through the upper floor, pointing out the names of those who occupied the offices.

“Modera,” Antonidas said. “She likes rabbits, and tea. Though not usually at the same time. Krasus. He is an elf, but has lived here for many years. Sweetberry, she’s a gnome, and she is our liaison with Gnomeregan as well. She’s our foremost expert in combining arcane magic with technology. Archivist Desoran, who is also the Chief Librarian, and developed a unique spell to blast enemies with lightning, reminiscent of the primitive shamanistic traditions. Finally, Runeweaver, who is a bit of an odd sort, but very clever, I promise you.”

“...and then, you.”

“And then, me,” Antonidas agreed, and paused in front of his office. He made an arcane gesture, stroking the mark on the barrier of reality. Before such a symbol, mere mundane locks collapsed, and the door clicked open. “Their leader.”

“What’s the difference between a mage and an Archmage?” Jaina wondered as Antonidas opened the door for her and she walked in. “Is it not needing to clean your room?”

Antonidas’ office was not neat, nor was it efficiently arranged. His bookshelves reached the ceiling, which was high, and seemed to sag under the weight of countless volumes, ledgers, and minor artifacts that he couldn’t be bothered to return to the vault. His desk was huge, broad, and dark where it could be seen under the mound of paperwork that occupied it at all times of day or night. As time had gone on, Archmages had seen their offices expand from mere work spaces, and his was no different. Part of the room had been separated from the rest - with bookshelves, naturally - and held a kitchenette with a small stove, a cold box, and a shelf crammed with different kinds of tea, biscuits, and cans of soup. A pot sat on the stove, the lingering warmth from his last cream of mushroom soup gone and the liquid itself congealed, and a kettle, powered by electricity rather than fire, sat on the countertop.

There was not a clean mug in sight, and Antonidas realized he probably should clean more, if nothing else to set a good example.

“Mages are often too busy to maintain their living space,” Antonidas said instead. “To many, time is an illusion. Free time, doubly so.”

“Can’t you just wave your hands and--” Jaina raised her hands in demonstration, and Antonidas braced for something to happen. When nothing did, he exhaled. “Poof!”

“I am not specialized in cleaning spells, though some are,” he said. “I will… have someone come in to fix this, but in the meantime, make yourself comfortable.”

Jaina wrinkled her nose at the kitchenette, and turned her head. There was a couch that occupied the far corner of the section of the room, curled like a C around a low table. The table had two cups on it, a thick volume, and a cat, standing on the volume, licking the tea cup.

“Celadon,” Antonidas warned, starting towards the cat. “Shoo.”

The cat refused to shoo. It sat down, curling up on the open pages.

“You are as terrible as an orc, and twice as rude,” Antonidas muttered, hurrying over to it. “Elves have better manners.” He picked up the cat -- who stretched in the middle, arching before it would be moved -- and cradled it in his arms. “Naughty. Bad.”

Celadon purred at him, and headbutted him in the beard. Antonidas stroked long, though aging, fingers over his pet’s brown, grey, and white fur.

Jaina giggled. “Can I pet him?”

“You can,” Antonidas said, and moved to sit on the couch, settling Celadon in his lap. “He lives here in my office, and while I may forget to clean, I never forget about him.”

“That’s good,” Jaina said, and patted at her hip, under her jacket. “I wouldn’t forget Bluey, either.”

Antonidas wondered, briefly, if telling Jaina that Bluey would likely never see her again if she gave up her magic entirely would help, or send her fleeing into the wilds.

Celadon, unaware of the crisis that faced them, climbed onto Jaina’s lap, and butted against her hand until she scritched him between the ears.

“Now that you’re here, I’m going to speak to Kelnar about your living arrangements,” Antonidas said. “If you truly decide not to stay here, they will be temporary, but you’re much younger than our normal students, so we will need to arrange things specially for you.”

“I’d rather be home,” Jaina muttered, and buried her face in Celadon’s fur. “With my family and Bluey.”

“...I know,” Antonidas said, and put his hand on her shoulder lightly. “Please, at least consider staying. There is so much for you to learn here, and much we can likely learn from you.”

When Jaina said nothing, he rose, took a deep breath, and left the girl to her thoughts.

~ * ~

It took only minutes for Jaina to become bored. It had been a tiring day, but her nap earlier, safe in Bluey’s embrace, meant that she was not  _ tired,  _ merely  _ worn out.  _ Dalaran seemed fancy, fussy, and overblown, like one of the elaborate ball gowns she saw sometimes in fashion catalogues. Pretty to look at, but impractical.

_ Like a big cake covered in icing and flowers, instead of one of Maria’s sweetbreads,  _ Jaina thought, kicking her legs against the side of the couch in a series of muffled thuds. Celadon was bored too, wiggling out of her grip and moving to sit on top of the book again, determined to get at the teacup.

“What are you reading?” Jaina asked. He raised his head, and meowed softly. “That sounds in’eresting.”

Celadon flicked his tail, and Jaina leaned forward, craning to see what it was he was sitting on. The volume was big, and the pages the cat was sitting on were covered in scrawled notes. Some of the lines were underscored, and occasionally, there were drawings.

“Mother always told me not to draw in my books,” Jaina told Celadon, peering at some of the writing. “Maybe Archmages don’t have someone to tell them not to?”

Celadon half-rose, raised his tail, and farted.

“Ew,” Jaina said. “How’m I supposed to read a book covered’n cat stink?” She tugged at the book, dislodging the feline, who glared at her. It took some maneuvering to get it into her lap, and she sat back. At her hip, the flask that contained Bluey seemed to stir.

“Jaina,” he burbled in a mournful, muffled tone. “Let me out!”

“Um, let me see if there’s a bucket,” she replied, and hefted the book onto the couch and hopped up. Looking around -- and wrinkling her nose at the mess -- she considered her options. There didn’t appear to be a  _ bucket  _ about, but there was the pot on the stove, and what looked like a kettle, save for it being covered in runes.

Jaina unhooked the flask and uncorked it, and walked over to the stove. “What do you think?”

“The pot is  _ dirty,  _ Jaina,” Bluey complained, and obligingly, she tilted him towards the kettle. “Ooh, this one is nice, it’s got water in it, though it feels stale, but I can fix that. At least it’s cold.”

“Kettle it is, then. Hold tight.” Jaina corked the flask again and set it on the countertop, then picked up the kettle so she could bring it back near the couch. Then she brought the flask from the counter to the kettle and opened it, pouring the flask into the kettle. Bluey flowed into his new container with a bloop, and it took him a few moments to reshape himself.

Celadon, clearly unimpressed, began to wash himself.

“...he’s not going to drink me, is he?” Bluey asked, bringing his blobby fists together nervously. “I don’t want anyone to drink me.”

“He won’t, I promise,” said Jaina, and went back to the couch. “I think he drinks tea and eats fish, like I do!”

“I suppose that’s okay.” Bluey scooted a little closer. “What’s that?”

“A book,” Jaina said, leafing through the pages, frowning at some of the words.

“I know what a  _ book  _ is,” the elemental said, and Jaina snorted. “I want to know what it’s  _ about.” _

“Well, I’ll  _ tell  _ you, if you stop interrupting,” Jaina said, and carefully closed the book, then opened it to look at the first pages. “A history of the Guardians of Azeroth. Fourth edition. Dalaran, Y5581 AF.”

“What does that mean?” Bluey wanted to know, leaning in. “I can’t read any of it, human writing is funny.”

“Don’t drip on it,” Jaina chided him. “I’m not sure, why don’t I read it to you and we find out together?”

“Okay.”

Jaina settled back, and began to read. “Table of contents. Introduction. Founding of Dalaran. The first crisis. Meeting in Tirisfal. The first guardian--”

“That’s so many words already,” Bluey said. “Can’t you read the fun part?”

Jaina rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. “Okay, fine. You’re so impatient, you’d better not interrupt me the whole time.”

“I won’t, I  _ promise,”  _ Bluey said, and Jaina got to work.

~ * ~

“So, that’s the situation as we know it,” Antonidas said, running his hand over his beard. “Obviously, she can’t stay in the dormitories. A five year gap between the younger students and the older ones is difficult but manageable, because as they get older they can take care of themselves more and more. A child that  _ young  _ will require supervision at all times.”

“...which is why you left Jaina to her own devices in your office?” Kelnar Goldensword asked, propping one hand on her hip, while her other arm held a stack of books and papers snug against her waist. The elven woman was a long-time resident of Dalaran, though her family had an estate in Quel’thalas. Her brothers managed it -- one a Spellbreaker, the other an importer of ‘artisanal’ cheeses from the human kingdoms who charged his fellows exorbitant prices for things humans ate regularly -- which left her to her own career, which was to say, a first year teacher at the Academy.

“I won’t be gone long,” Antonidas said, frowning. “So long as I can get things arranged quickly and get back to her.”

“Of course, Archmage,” Kelnar replied, her lips hinting at amusement. While many mages tended to dress in a haphazard way -- though it was less obvious when it was the elves -- Kelnar maintained an appearance of elegance and seriousness. Her long brown hair was swept up in an elaborate hairstyle, pinned in loops that gave the resemblance of some kind of flower, though Antonidas could not have given its genus or phylum. Her lips were painted dark, and her cheekbones enhanced by make up.

It was a kind of magic that even he, the greatest of the Kirin Tor, did not entirely understand, but appreciated and admired nonetheless.

“...you didn’t tell me the, ah, nature of your relationship with the family,” Antonidas said, and cleared his throat a few times. “They spoke well of you.”

“My relationships should not be of note to the Six,” Kelnar said, but sighed. “Daelin and I were lovers when he was younger. He was handsome, charming, and daring. Still is, I suppose. He broke things off when his family finalized the marriage between him and Adri. I was hurt, but it made sense. Humans are usually happier with humans. I didn’t… realize about Finn until after he was married. Sloppy of me, I suppose, but when I held her… she was my sweet little girl. As sweet as Derek, and they weren’t born all that far apart.”

“Lady Proudmoore seems very… cold,” Antonidas noted. “Aloof.”

“That’s Gilnean nonsense,” Kelnar said, dismissive. “Their womenfolk are told to be restrained and subdued at all times, and their men loud and raucous. Sun only knows what those who aren’t either do, if they recognize such people. Adri is wonderful once you get to know her, clever and kind. When I told Daelin… they both acknowledged Finn. She’s part of the family, and so am I. If she’d wanted to be another little buccaneer, Daelin would have let her, but she wanted to follow Gawain into the Spellbreakers, so I let her go. I’m going to send word to her that Jaina’s here. She’ll want to see her sister.”

Antonidas absorbed this, though something niggled at him. “Lady Proudmoore mentioned that Jaina had a… a firearm. What was that about? Should it be a concern?”

“No, Jaina will be fine.” Kelnar rolled her eyes, just a little, jewel green and enhanced by subtle eye makeup. “Proudmoores are brought to Kezan when they’re seven. It dazzles them a little, and they get to meet their goblin relatives, but it also marks them. They get little tattoos, injected with Kezanite, to confirm they’re real. Finn has one, on her arm. Jaina’s is on her shoulder. Their Lightfather gives them their first gun and trains them in its use. They aren’t allowed to keep it with them if they’re irresponsible. They make no guarantees about being irresponsible at any  _ other  _ time, of course.”

“Of course,” Antonidas repeated. “But there was a delay in Jaina’s case, wasn’t there?’

“Yes.” Kelnar sighed, and brushed her fingers along her long, deep-purple skirts. “Jaina has… not had an easy time of it. She’s lonely, more often than not, and being her father’s daughter doesn’t help. She’s stormy and temperamental, or as sunny as a Summer’s day in Silvermoon. This isn’t the first time she’s been picked on or lost friends. Adri was worried about Jaina, not that she would hurt herself, but that she’d hurt someone else. Waiting a year, impressing the importance of safety on her, helped.”

“She hurt a boy with her magic.”

“She did, and that’s why she’s here, to learn to not do it,” Kelnar said. “You can take a gun from someone. You can take the bullets from it, hide them away. You can’t hide magic.”

“Except one way,” Antonidas said, and she looked at him sharply. “In the interest of fairness, I did need to tell her there was the option to have her magic removed. I didn’t explain the consequences of such.”

“That was stupid of you,” Kelnar said sharply. “That’s treatment for dangerous criminals, not little girls.”

“Then you’ll need to help me convince her of that, won’t you?” Antonidas grumped, stung by the insult. “You know her far better than I do, for starters.”

“Clearly,” Kelnar said. “She’ll stay with me until she’s fifteen, or a little longer, depending on whether or not she can find a roommate, or whether she would rather live in the dormitories. The guest room is a little cramped, but it will be fine for a young girl. How much did she bring with her?”

“...did the trunk not arrive before we did?” Antonidas asked. “I teleported it here.”

“You used a  _ teleportation  _ spell on  _ luggage?”  _ Kelnar squawked. “How is the greatest mage in Dalaran unaware of the coin toss failure rate on those spells?”

“I was  _ trying  _ to conduct this business as swiftly as possible!” Antonidas cried. “And spells are, and always should be, entirely reliable!”

“They usually, but not always,  _ are,”  _ Kelnar said. “Well, if you’ve gone and  _ lost  _ Jaina’s things, you’d damn well better find them again!”

“Of course I will,” Antonidas snapped. “How long could it possibly take?”

~ * ~

It was well past nightfall when Antonidas returned to his office, wet, unsuccessful, and deeply annoyed.

_ I suppose I can only be thankful that Kelnar was too busy digging through her daughter’s old things to find clothing for Jaina to follow me back and criticize me,  _ he thought grumpily, and closed the door with a soft noise.  _ Some days, I do regret putting that sound muffling enchantment on it. _

The Archmage murmured a spell, sending the water in his robes rushing to the floor, and then a second, to get rid of that water entirely. Aside from attempting to find Jaina’s luggage, and failing, he’d been interrupted a half-dozen times, delaying his search that much more each time. Most obnoxious were the reminders that ‘his guests’ had arrived, as though he needed someone to  _ tell  _ him young Jaina was in his office, obviously quite distressed about his extended absence.

_ Assuming she hasn’t dismissed all of us in the way only children entirely certain of themselves can do.  _ He sighed gustily, and took a moment to collect himself before moving into the other room.

Jaina was curled up on the couch, her head resting on an open book. Her expression was calm, peaceful, and utterly unconcerned with the fact that Celadon was curled on her back, rear end resting on her head, while his chin was resting on his paws located over her shoulder, and his tail was curled against her face. Off to one side, Antonidas could see his prize kettle, a gift from Sweetberry on the occasion of his sixtieth birthday, occupied by Bluey, who was snoring as only a creature that didn’t actually need to breathe could.

It was such a sight that, for a long moment, he just watched them, and wished rather vainly for Sweetberry's archival device, or as she called it, her camera.

“Archmage,” Kelnar said, bursting through the office. “Everything is arranged, how is-- oh.”

“Precious, isn’t it?” Antonidas said softly. “She can’t have understood most of that book, though. Perhaps she liked the pictures.”

“You underestimate her,” Kelnar said, and moved to Jaina’s side. She knelt down, and touched her lower back. “Sunfish.” Jaina stirred, making an annoyed sound, and Celadon made one a moment after when she moved. “I’m sorry, but you’re going to need to move a little bit.”

“Kelnar…” Jaina said, yawning and peering up at her as Celadon climbed off of her, onto the back of the couch. “Hi.”

“Hello, sweetheart,” Kelnar said, smiling. “It’s good to see you. Are you hungry?”

“No,” Jaina said, and sat up slowly. “I ate a  _ lot  _ of crackers.”

Antonidas frowned direly. “Those were my--”

“Good, you were alone for a long time,” Kelnar said pointedly. “I’m glad you found something.”

“They were dry, but the soup was gucky,” Jaina said. “I had to eat something. I wasn’t alone, though. I had Celadon, and Bluey helped me find water. He’s my best friend.”

“I know, Sunfish,” Kelnar said. “Let’s get you to your room. You’ll be staying with me. Won’t that be nice?”

“Yup,” Jaina said, and her eyes widened. “Kelnar! Kelnar, did you know there are hero mages? They’re called Guardians and they fight  _ demons!” _

“Really?” Kelnar said, and stroked her hand over Jaina’s hair, trying to arrange it properly. “Where did you hear that?”

“It was in the  _ book,”  _ Jaina said, gesturing to the open pages. “And there was one, Aegwynn, who traveled all the way to  _ Northrend,  _ which must be at  _ least  _ as far as Quel’thalas where Finn is, and she made friends with dragons and fought the  _ biggest  _ demon. Kelnar, I want to be a Guardian!”

Kelnar’s expression darkened. “Jaina, I’m afraid that, as you finish reading the book, you'll find--”

“You can be a Guardian, or a very powerful sorceress, only if you keep your magic,” Antonidas interrupted, scenting opportunity. “You will have to train very hard every day. Will you promise me that?”

Jaina seemed to consider it seriously, even as Kelnar mouthed incredulous profanity at him, out of the girl’s immediate line of sight. Antonidas gestured at her hurriedly to stop.

“Okay,” Jaina said finally. “I’ll study magic so I can be  _ just  _ like Aegwynn.”

Antonidas sighed with relief, and Kelnar smiled, hugging Jaina tightly.  _ I’ll explain the truth of things soon enough, before she finishes the book. It will be disappointing, but the legacy of the Guardians is in our hands now. Aegwynn was difficult to deal with, but I suppose there are worse role models. She could have picked Medivh. _

“Archmage Antonidas,” Krasus Goldenmist said, his presence seeming to come from nowhere, as though he’d teleported, or flown in the window. “Are you aware that Prince Kael’thas Sunstrider and his retinue are here from Silvermoon to speak to you?”

As realization dawned on the Archmage, as all of the messages that had been left for him fell into context, he swore explosively.

Jaina giggled, Krasus smiled, and Kelnar looked slightly scandalized.


	4. Early Spring, Y14

Archmage Goldenmist led Kael and his friends from the Portal chamber, up towards the Citadel. Kael had seen it before, and even now he couldn’t help but compare it to the Sunspire Academy, where he’d been trained: Sunspire was tall and slender, reaching up as though it could touch Belore Himself, its white stone highlighted with gleaming gold. A pair of orbs, absorbing and converting solar power, rotated lazily around it.

Dalaran had spires aplenty, to be sure, and the Violet Citadel was no different, but there was something missing; the slender wings that stretched towards the sky, perhaps, or the purple and white of the stone and roofing tiles instead of cream and gold. It was though the mages here had tried to emulate elven style, and failed.

Krasus spoke to the evening shift door guardians, taking a few moments to ask them about their day and their families. Rommath, already irate from having sat around waiting, only to need to walk for fifteen minutes, appeared to be trying to hate the elder Archmage to death.

Kylian, on the other hand, was delighted.

“Hey,” he leaned over to Kael, not bothering to be quiet. “Isn’t he hot? Do you think he’d fuck me?”

“You’re a little young for my tastes,” Krasus said. “I would have to ask my wife, but be warned, she’s a real  _ dragon  _ when crossed.”

Kylian flinched, and straightened.

“I’m sure we’ll have all the time we need to make such considerations,” Ghlorine said, between yawns. “We are ebullient with joy to be here, despite the consternation of others.”

“You’re exhausted, my dear,” Krasus noted. “We’re nearly there.”

“Doe,” Ghlorine agreed, and gently guided Voren forward as they walked, her companion dozing even while standing. “I would dearly prefer it.”

The gates opened, and Kael could feel magic shimmer through the enchanted metal.  _ Some of it is so familiar, but other spells are so alien they could have come through the Dark Portal, or from somewhere else in the Great Dark. No matter what happens, this will have been worth it. _

Archmage Goldenmist led them inside. There were few people wandering about the Citadel, the corridors as lushly appointed as they were empty.

“We have a few apartments for visiting guests,” Krasus noted. “You’ll need to take up residence elsewhere, unless this is indeed to be a temporary visit.”

“We’ll be staying for at least a year,” Kael said. “Longer, depending on what Archmage Antonidas says. I understand there are… student apartments?”

Krasus raised an eyebrow. “Yes, but those are for  _ students,  _ or in the case of the dormitories, for younger students. Once they reach the end of their initial studies and are initiated magi, inexpensive, specially designed apartments and houses are available for them, and they often live two or three to a house, if they’re cozy. Larger suites are more difficult to find without buying a proper house, which does happen when mages want to start families. Some may skip over those graduate houses, if they don’t intend to pursue studies further. Not every mage decides they want to become an Archmage, after all.”

“And, uh,” Kylian started, stopped, then rallied. “What about the paladin students? They visit Dalaran sometimes, don’t they? Part of the whole learning about other people thing?”

Krasus studied him closely for a moment, and he squirmed. “They do. We usually receive a handful of paladin students a year, often in the later stages of their studies. They’re assigned to one of the spare dormitory rooms -- they’re large, and inevitably, we have drop outs from every class -- so they don’t stay in the Citadel. Whomever you’re looking for might not be here, as their requirement is only to visit a nation different from their own, so long as it’s part of the Alliance. They could be in Stormwind, Ironforge… even Gnomeregan. Many paladins choose Dalaran because of the… misunderstandings between mages and non-mages, particularly during the Wars.”

With each bit of information, Kylian seemed to wilt. Kael took his arm and squeezed. “Hopefully, they behave themselves. The paladins, I mean.”

“Oh, squires vary in quality from very noble to obnoxious, just as mage apprentices do,” Krasus said cheerfully. “And teenagers of all stripes tend to make fools of themselves.”

“...yeah,” Kylian said, and lapsed into his own thoughts.

Krasus glanced between them, and finding no more questions forthcoming, continued onward. “So, these are the guest quarters. They are unoccupied at the moment, fortunately. They’re fully appointed, but be courteous, especially if you do intend to stay.”

“We do,” Kael said firmly. “And we will be thoughtful house guests.”

“Excellent,” Krasus said, and gestured. Two sets of doors opened, and Kael guided Kylian into one, with Pathaleon trailing after, and Ghlorine brought Voren to the second, with Rommath bringing up the rear. “Welcome to Dalaran.”

The door closed behind Kael with a click, and he sighed.  _ Welcome to Dalaran, indeed. _

A moment later, trunks appeared in the room, landing close to the bed with a soft phut of displaced air. Kael gave them a bare once-over and led Kylian to sit on one of the beds. His best friend’s gaze was still downcast, and Kael took his hands, squeezing gently.

“How long do you figure it will take?” Kylian asked softly. “For her to get here.”

“I don’t know,” Kael admitted. “How long has it been since you last saw her?”

“...a year or so,” he said. “I tried to apologize, I did, but she wouldn’t see me. Edelle told me to give it some time. She started her studies last year, so I guess it will take a little while to, you know, visit places. I guess.”

Kael released one of Kylian’s hands, and cupped his cheek, guiding him downwards to kiss his forehead. “Get some rest, won’t you? You’re just tired, we all are. In the morning we’ll be able to make plans, and have that meeting.”

“...and ask where the rest of our luggage is,” Pathaleon noted, from his side of the room. Kael turned, and sat on the bed next to Kylian. “Some of it’s missing.”

“He could have teleported it to the other room,” Kylian said, rallying. “There was a lot of it, and there are six of us.”

“Maybe, but look, each of us have slightly different ones.” He tucked his fiddle toy away, and pointed at the chests. “See, mine have a gear on them, because I build things. Yours have notes, because of your family, and Kael’s have a firebird. I brought four, you brought two--”

“You brought  _ two?”  _ Kael asked, incredulous, even as Pathaleon frowned. “What are you going to wear?”

“Figured I’d go shopping,” Kylian said, shrugging. “Dad gave me an expenses account.”

“Hold that thought,” Kael murmured. “I have six, but there are five here.”

“And no extras,” Pathaleon agreed. “So unless the other room has one extra, we’re just plain missing one chest.”

“And it could be anywhere from here to Alterac,” Kael murmured. “Wonderful. Can we blame your ancestor for this one, Ky?”

“Not this spell,” Kylian said, shrugging. “It’s someone’s variant on banishing. I’m pretty sure the fact stuff goes missing was added deliberately, just to annoy people.”

“Or work on their own variant,” Kael mused. “In any case, it’s too late to look now, we’ll need to take a look in the morning.”

“At least it shouldn’t be too hard to find,” Pathaleon said. “You put tracking spells on them, right? In case they got lost?” He gestured to his own luggage, and pointed out a small wafer of arcane crystal, tucked neatly into the identification pocket.

Kael and Kylian exchanged a long, startled look, and slowly shook their heads.

Pathaleon rolled his eyes. “You’re the worst mages ever.”

Kylian’s ears tipped back briefly, and he tilted his head very slightly. Kael nodded. As one, they rose, lobbing pillows from their bed at Pathaleon, who cried out, laughed, and hurried to grab pillows from his own bed.

Strung out, exhausted, and a little lost, they threw pillows at one another until Rommath pounded on the wall and demanded they shut up so he could sleep.

~ * ~

In the morning, the final trunk hadn’t surfaced, nor had it merely been lost in the other room. Kael and Kylian had disentangled themselves from one another, bathed, and dressed. Kylian had seemed to have decided that informality was the name of the game in Dalaran, wearing loose, comfortable robes in gold and green. Kael, on the other hand, had been determined to put his best foot forward, and had brought as much of his formal garb as possible, which meant he required both his friends’ help dressing.

The fact that the trunk that held Kael’s casual clothing was the one that had gone missing was of no consequence.

Pathaleon elected, after careful consideration of not wanting to be awake yet, that he was going to sleep in.

“Let’s see who else is coming to this meeting,” Kylian murmured. Any trace of distress, of fear or doubt had been washed clean. Kael nodded, and they left their room, and knocked on the other door. Ghlorine greeted them, bright-eyed and cheerful.

“Good morning, Kael. Kylian.” She peered past their shoulders. “Patha’s still in bed?”

“Sleeping in,” Kael confirmed. “Really, only I need to go to this meeting, but anyone else who wants to join us can.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Ghlorine said. “There’s some research I’m interested in doing, and I’ve heard that Dalaran managed to salvage some of the books from Karazhan. I’m  _ really  _ interested in--”

“I’ll pass,” Rommath said. “I think I’m going to need all my strength to deal with humans while we’re staying. I don’t need to go to meetings too.”

“...then I’ll stay here, for when Voren wakes up,” Ghlorine said. “Have fun, ask about the books for me.”

“Are you worried something will happen?” Kael asked softly, concerned. “I know he’s obnoxious, but Rommath is still one of our friends.”

“Sometimes, Voren wakes up disoriented,” she replied, equally quiet. “He needs someone to be there, and I’ve been doing it for so long… it’s fine. I can ask the librarians another day.”

“He needs a nurse, Ghlor,” Kylian said, frowning. “A real nurse. Not just golems, and you have your own life and plans.”

“His family can’t afford it, you both know that,” she hissed. “I said I would care for him and I will. Just make sure the humans remember to feed us breakfast. Breakfast with  _ wine.  _ You know.”

“Yeah, we do,” Kylian said, sighing. He reached forward and hugged her, and Kael did the same. She nodded to both of them and closed the door, gently but firmly.

“We’re going to get him a nurse,” Kylian said. “Bad enough Edelle refuses care, but he shouldn’t be forced to go without. Maybe the humans can help us.”

“Pride is such a terrible thing when it prevents people from getting the help they need,” Kael agreed. “Let’s get going.”

Taking a deep breath, and grasping Kylian’s hand while they were still alone, Kael led the way out of the guest quarters, and attempted to find someone to talk to.

It seemed that, for all it felt like late morning to Kael -- deliciously self-indulgent, without servants to wake him and remind him of his duties as Heir -- it was still quite early here, and like many mages, the residents of the Citadel found mornings abominable. Some looked as though they were  _ still  _ awake rather than awake  _ again,  _ which was common enough.

He could see Archmage Goldenmist off in a corner, speaking softly to someone, a human man with long, copper-bright hair, and from their expressions, it was either an intimate discussion, an argument, or both.

“Hm, maybe breakfast first, then meeting?” Kylian guessed. “Remember, portal lag.”

“...I remember portal lag,” Kael muttered, kicking himself mentally. “We should have stayed up longer to try to sleep in.”

“There’s only so long we can fuck before my dick falls asleep,” Kylian reminded him. “We did our best.”

“Maybe we’re just doomed to be early risers,” Kael said gloomily. Kylian laughed and half-hugged him.

“Or we could have sex in the morning, until more people are awake.” Kael nodded.

“It’s possible, we’ll have to see how long it takes us to acclimatize.” He took a deep breath. “Breakfast.”

“Yeah, food’s good too. So long as I have something in my mouth, I’ll be happy.”

“Can I quote you on that?” Kael asked, and the pair of them made their way downstairs. While few people were awake, they  _ did  _ have staff manning the desks, yawning slightly, and that was where Kael headed, trying to look determined, but friendly.

“Good morning,” said the woman at the counter, a human, short and a bit plump. She reached up, rubbing her eye under her spectacles. “How may I help you?”

“My name is Prince Kael’thas Sunstrider,” he began. “I have a meeting with Archmage Antonidas at… some point, but first, my friends and I would like breakfast. We have a few of the guest suites at the Citadel. Could something be sent to them, and we be directed to a cafe?”

“One of  _ elven  _ tastes,” Kylian added. “Hi, by the way.”

“Hi,” she replied, and smiled. “Just let me check the ledger for the Archmage’s appointments.”

Carefully, the woman lifted a massive tome and opened it, seemingly at random. Certainly, there were no bookmarks inside it, and she bent her head to peer at the pages, flipping back and forth, sometimes brushing a lock of orange-gold hair from her face. She drew her finger down the page, and murmured, largely to herself.

Kael waited patiently, and tried to read the words, though they seemed to twist and turn under his gaze.

“Here we are. Your meeting is scheduled for the tenth bell,” she said, pushing her glasses up a little. “It’s currently just after eight. His office is on the top floor, the furthest back. All the doors are marked. As for your second query, let me consult the map.”

“Maps are good,” Kylian observed, and she beamed at him.

“They certainly  _ are,  _ and we have the finest interactive maps in the Kingdoms, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

Considering that Kael had never seen one in his life, he didn’t, and indicated so.

The woman pulled out a map, and spread it neatly over the book. The map itself covered the whole city -- the lake, the bridges, the Citadel, and dozens and dozens of places, none of which seemed to be in any great detail. Kael and Kylian exchanged skeptical looks. 

“Tell the map what you’re looking for,” she urged. “Start out very generalized, then add detail.”

“I see,” Kael said, and addressed the map. “Restaurants and cafes.”

Immediately, parts of the map folded away, and the image raced towards a different part of the city. Several sections seemed to grow under their eyes, and names raced to compete with one another.

“Okay, I’m impressed,” Kylian muttered, fascinated. “Restaurants and cafes that serve breakfast.”

A few names departed, almost sulky in their exit. Kael frowned. There were still more than a dozen names. “Restaurants and cafes that serve breakfast and… wine.”

The image blurred briefly, and the woman frowned. “It’s confused. What kind of wine? Be clear.”

Kael sighed. “Arcwine.”

The rest of the names disappeared, and a handful remained, one of which danced with enthusiasm, indicating delivery to the Citadel for authorized elven guests.

“Perfect,” Kael said. “How… do we get there?”

“Just a moment, I’ll fetch you some directions,” the human said, and tapped the image. She murmured to it, telling it ‘on foot’ and ‘fastest route’ before handing them a slip of paper with instructions on it. “Follow these and you should get there fine. You can just reverse them to get back to the Citadel.”

“Thank you very much for all your help,” Kael said, and smiled. “Have a good morning.”

“Thank you for visiting the Violet Citadel Central Library,” the woman replied cheerfully. “Have a wonderful day, and welcome to Dalaran, home of the Six and the Kirin Tor.”

~ * ~

Breakfast was considered, by all those who attended, a rousing success. The directions had been excellent and the food tasted like home. Kael finished putting in the order for delivery and went back to sipping his arcwine, sighing happily as it fizzed through his veins.

Already, his head was clearing and his senses felt sharper.

Strangely, there were humans at the cafe: a pair wearing robes that seemed gaudy to Kael, though they were cut in an elven style, and drinking tea in little cups. The humans stared at them as the meal progressed, their interest caught by the arcwine, and they would whisper to one another at times.

Kylian, meanwhile, was drawing penises on his napkin with the tine of his fork, using leftover jam as his ink.

“Are those… humans dressed up like elves?” Kael asked softly. “Is that something humans do?”

“Enthusiasts, probably,” Kylian said, glancing up, and then back down, adding volume to one of the ballsacks. “People who see fragments of elven lives and decide they want to be just like them, without any of the inconvenient parts.”

“Our lives are hardly inconvenient,” Kael pointed out, but he felt uneasy. “We’re just people.”

“Say that when we can’t get wine,” Kylian murmured. “I don’t know if there are elves that treat humans that way, especially considering half of them think humans are dirty and primitive, and the other half barely consider them at all.”

“What’s gotten into you?” Kael asked. “Is it about… her, again?”

Kylian sighed deeply. “Do you think she hates Quel’thalas now, and that’s why she went to train in Lordaeron? With humans?”

Kael reached out, and took his hand. “There’s a good chance it was the religious aspect. The Church of the Sun is more popular in Quel’thalas, and is distinct from the Light. They’re not incompatible, just… different, you know? That’s probably why.”

“Probably,” Kylian echoed. “I bet you’re right. I bet that’s all it is.”

“See?” Kael said, and sat back as the waitress came by to clear their plates. She paused, peering at the drawing on the napkin and then shook her head once, walking away. “We’re still early for the meeting, we should go for a walk.”

“Actual effort is the worst,” Kylian said, and let his expression smooth, pushing pain back behind a smile once more. “I hate walking places.”

“...we can see if we can find a semi-public place so you can give me a blowjob?” Kael tried, and Kylian’s grin widened, becoming more genuine.

“Reverse that and we’ll call it a deal,” Kylian said, and raised his hand. “Bill, please.”

The waitress returned with a neatly written list of their breakfast foods, their prices, and the cost of the delivery to the Citadel. Kael frowned at it, and added the numbers up in his head.

“Something wrong?” Kylian asked, returning to his drawing. It was almost done, though the jam was nearly gone, hampering his efforts.

“It’s just… expensive,” Kael admitted. “Or, I suppose, not compared to some of the things we’ve bought in Quel’thalas, but it’s the first time I’ve had to look at the price and think about it.”

“It’s not like Dad won’t authorize payment,” Kylian pointed out. “Same as in Silvermoon. Sign for it, use your seal, and we’ll go for this so-called walk.”

“It’s not exactly independent living, is it?” Kael asked, and signed the bill, and drew a seal and a stick of wax from his pouch. Conjuring flame from his hand, he melted it, letting the wax drip onto the receipt like a puddle of dark red before pressing his seal into it, then waited for it to harden. “I can still get whatever I want.”

“Unless you’re planning on pulling an Araevin -- don’t make that face at me -- you were always going to have that kind of life. Part of the whole… being Heir thing.” Kylian touched the back of his hand lightly. “Look, you can still get what you want out of this. You can still have fun.”

“It’s not about  _ fun,”  _ Kael protested. “It’s about… it’s about not feeling like a complete disappointment to someone, even if it’s only to myself.”

“You aren’t one,” Kylian said firmly. “I know that, our friends know that, Dad knows that. I think even your father knows that, deep down. So now it’s your turn.”

Kael tested the wax, then put his things away before standing. “You’re only saying that so I’ll blow you.”

“I mean, obviously, but also I mean it.” Kylian stood, and left his masterpiece where it lay. He took Kael’s arm and leaned against him, affectionate and offering reassurance. “You’re not a fuck-up, Kael. Trust me on this one. I’m an expert.”

Kael smiled thinly.  As they left the restaurant, and began to walk, he saw the humans rise from their table and hurry to examine the napkin Kylian had left behind, before the waitress shooed them away.

~ * ~

They were almost late for their meeting, and it wasn’t even because of sex.

Kael had not bothered to memorize the map they had seen in the library. He’d glanced at it and relied on the specific instructions to get back to the cafe. If they’d returned immediately, that would have worked, but then they would have been early.

Trying to find a park had taken them from their designated path which had, in turn, meant that trying to get  _ back  _ to the Citadel was a complex affair.

_ At least, until we realized you can probably navigate by landmarks alone,  _ Kael thought ruefully.  _ There’s something to be said for remembering to look up. _

As promised, the Archmage’s office was on the top floor, tucked far into the back of a row of offices, one each belonging to a current member of the Six, though there were several spare offices, along with what might be a supply closet.

“I wonder if you could bang someone in there,” Kylian asked conversationally as Kael knocked on the door. “Against all the musty tomes and spare quills.”

“That would require you to have sex with one of the Archmages,” Kael pointed out, trying not to roll his eyes.  _ Talking about sex constantly does not conceal the fact that you are sad and lonely, friend of mine.  _ “And not all of them are going to be as attractive as Krasus.”

“He’s still objectively hot, though,” Kylian said. “I’m so ready for human men, too. Body hair and all.”

“I don’t know how you’ll be able to stand it,” Kael said in an undertone. “It would be like licking a--”

“Enter,” Antonidas called, and Kael pushed the door open. The Archmage was seated at his  cluttered and messy desk, with a cat napping on one of the stacks of tomes,which seemed to sway with each soft snore. “Welcome, Prince Kael’thas, Magister Kylan’thas. Be seated.”

Kael could feel Kylian wanting to be snarky, and willed him to be quiet as he sat. “Thank you,” he said. “We’ve been made to feel most welcome in Dalaran since our arrival.”

“I apologize for the delay,” Antonidas said. “There was an urgent matter I had to attend to personally. Dalaran’s affairs are myriad and complex and often require my attention.”

Kael smiled, as if such a concept was wholly new to him, and nodded. “Archmage Goldenmist helped us, as did one of the library staff members this morning. I hope you have time to talk now.”

“I do,” Antonidas took out a recording crystal, adjusted it, and set it on the other side of the desk from the cat. “What brings you to Dalaran?”

“As you know, the relationship between Quel’thalas and the rest of the Alliance can be somewhat strained by the lack of immigration from the human nations, as well as a number of our other domestic policies,” Kael began, trying to sound and feel professional, like a true diplomat. “As such, I, and my friends, as representatives of the Crown, hope to bring relations between our nations closer together.”

“I see,” Antonidas said. “Do you intend to allow humans to live in Quel’thalas?”

Kael and Kylian glanced at each other briefly. “Well, that’s not my place to say. That decision is in the hands of the Conclave, and the King.”

“Do you intend to offer up the secrets of the runestones to the Six, that we might use them to better the lives of people in Dalaran and the rest of the Alliance?”

Antonidas was staring at him, and it made Kael squirm, though he tried not to show it.

“The Runekeepers are a little indisposed right now,” Kylian said. “And it’s their family’s secret, not the Crown’s. Only they can authorize teaching new members.”

“Do you intend to offer more in-depth insights into elven culture, being visitors rather than expatriated individuals such as many of our current residents?” Antonidas asked, ignoring him. “Do you offer to give us access to artifacts kept solely in the Circle’s care?”

“No,” Kael said finally, “and no.”

“Then what  _ do  _ you intend to do that needs my attention, rather than simply visiting the city, staying in expensive hotels, and then leaving once you’re finished indulging yourself in the parts of human culture you find palatable and discarding the rest like so much soiled laundry on a floor?” Antonidas’ tone, while quiet, was anything but polite; this was blunt in a way that only Kael’s closest friends could be. Kael’s eyes widened, the possibility of another leader of a nation  _ being  _ so direct instead of couching disapproval behind layers of pretentious causing the dam to break.

“I want to learn,” Kael said, the words bursting forth from him. “I feel like I’ve learned everything there is to know in Quel’thalas and it still isn’t  _ enough.  _ It doesn’t make me happy, it doesn’t… it doesn’t satisfy me. So I want to know more. Learn more. Do more.”

“Well,” Antonidas said, sitting back in his chair, hands folded over his stomach, and his long length of white beard. “That’s more like it. Do you often get very emotional?”

Kael sank into his own seat. “No, not really.”

“That’s a relief, at least, managing your emotions is quite important here.” He harrumphed and watched with a wary eye as his cat rose, shook itself, and made its way from the pile, across the desk, and over to Kael. “If you want to learn, you’ll need to be a student. Older than most of our students, even the elven ones, but a student nonetheless.”

“I do,” Kael said, and offered his hand to the cat to sniff. It did, licked his fingers, and sat in front of him, demanding attention in a way that reminded him more than a little of Kylian, though without the manual dexterity to draw obscene pictures. “I want to learn.”

“Then I will direct you to the registrar, and you can sign up for classes,” Antonidas said. “However, there is a condition that I feel I must place on you. While you can of course sign up for any classes you wish, and ignore prerequisites should you so choose, you will learn very little of our ways from doing that.”

“...but that would mean…” Kylian frowned. “What  _ would  _ that mean?”

“It means beginning from the beginning, as our students do,” Antonidas said. “The full suite of classes, from the basics to the pre-Archmage preparatory classes, and you could even stay here and become an accredited Archmage.”

Kael opened his mouth, to protest, and closed it. He knew how to use magic. He used spells daily -- he’d used a simple cantrip this morning, to melt wax, and earlier than that, to make sure his clothes didn’t wrinkle -- and he doubted the humans could teach him anything new. From the look on Antonidas’ face, he knew what Kael was thinking, and wasn’t impressed.

_ It’s like he’s daring me to complain,  _ Kael thought, a little annoyed.  _ He should be grateful I’m here, talking to him, entertaining this notion of being treated like a child, a  _ human  _ child, like I’m some kind of… _

The word ‘inferior’ echoed in his mind, his father’s word, not his, or he didn’t believe it would be his. He didn’t believe he was as arrogant as the members of the Conclave who thought humans were too primitive to be mages at all, that they should have disappeared with the Hundred. He didn’t want to believe he was so stuck up that he couldn’t appreciate what the humans had done here, created maps that listened to you, or built a city on an island that felt so open, so unrestricted. He didn’t want to sound like he didn’t appreciate how much work had been put into the process, the industry, of teaching magic to each subsequent generation in a race that while they had not been born to magic, had nonetheless taken to it like breathing, like eating, like fucking.

“Of course,” Kael said, finally, after too long. “I’ll start at the very beginning.”

“Excellent,” Antonidas said. “Now, there is opportunity for acceleration through certain portions of the training. There have always been exceptional students, just as there have been those who need to take their time. Our teachers are prepared for both kinds of students and will adjust your course schedule appropriately. Will your friend also require registration?”

“Oh, no,” Kylian said. “That sounds way too much like hard work. Though, there are more of us, six including Kael. So we’re going to need somewhere to stay, and I doubt most of us will actually become  _ students,  _ you know?”

“Those rooms  _ are  _ needed for others,” Antonidas agreed. “You will need living arrangements, though I have a suggestion. While it’s common for students to remain in the dormitories for their initial training, there is housing for older students, those who can be trusted not to turn themselves into poultry or light themselves on fire.”

Kylian laughed, stopped, and then started when Antonidas nodded, indicating it was indeed meant to be funny, if not morbid.

“I believe you can trust that we won’t do either of those things,” Kael assured him. “We’d need… two or three? Unless they’re fairly large.”

“Two, I believe,” Antonidas said, nodding. “They’re suitable for up to four if some of the individuals are--” He coughed slightly. “Intimate, but such relationships may be disruptive to proper academic work.”

Kylian opened his mouth to say something, and Kael, with all the dignity afforded to him by his position as Crown Prince and Heir to the Phoenix Throne, kicked him in the ankle as hard as he could.

His best friend had to bite his lip to keep from crying out, stopping him from saying something they’d both regret.

“You won’t have to concern yourself with any unnecessary antics,” Kael promised him. “We’re all mature adults, capable of taking care of ourselves and remaining professional at all times.”

“Of course you are,” Antonidas agreed. “Then, if all is settled, we can begin the process. I will be in meetings much of the day, but I will receive word of your progress.”

“Thank you,” Kael said feelingly, “for giving us this opportunity.”

Antonidas nodded his reply, and stood. Kael stood too, and Kylian did a moment after. The cat, finding its audience distracted, jumped from the desk and wandered off, past the bookshelves and into an adjoining room.

“You’re welcome,” Antonidas said, and added, “Welcome to Dalaran.”


	5. Early Spring, Y14

_Magic,_ Jaina reflected, peering down into the water of Lake Dalaran, _is pretty silly._

Magic -- _sorcery,_ she corrected mentally -- had made her strange when she was little. Magic did many things, like pick people up and carry them places with special rituals and muttered words, or clean rooms, or even help people.

Even now, if she closed her eyes, she could imagine herself standing before a huge monster -- she was unclear what a ‘demon’ was, but it was definitely a monster -- with a gun in one hand and a staff in the other, facing it in battle, which she imagined to be not unlike cannon duels between ships, but instead of using shot for broadsides, it was magic. If she focused, she could even imagine the demons voice, brassy and deep, bellowing the foulest curses she wasn’t supposed to let on that she knew while she yelled back.

 _Cool,_ Jaina thought to herself. _Very cool._

“Jaina,” Bluey called up from the water. “I think I found it, but maybe not.”

She opened her eyes and looked down at her best friend. In the water, he was nearly clear, but his golden eyes peered up at her, a little worried. “What do you mean, maybe?”

“Um, well, there’s more than one down here,” Bluey said. “I think… I think this is where luggage goes when it’s hiding.”

 _Sunken treasure… definitely cool._ Jaina nodded. “Can you bring them all up? Maybe we can start our collection of pirate booty right now.”

“Beard-man said there were no pirates,” Bluey reminded her. “They might not let you keep it.”

“He’s smart and dumb at the same time,” Jaina said, rolling her eyes. “Like some of the people in the book.”

“Yup,” Bluey agreed. “Be right back.”

Jaina watched Bluey dive back down into the water, all but invisible under the waves. Even now, thinking about her special book made her feel warm and happy, even if magic didn’t, at least not entirely.

 _Magic is like having a gun, Sunfish,_ Kelnar had told her when she’d helped her get ready for sleep -- real sleep -- the night before. Kelnar had brushed her hair gently, and made sure she had a shirt to sleep in. Jaina had felt small in the mirror next to Kelnar, who was so pretty that both her parents agreed on it. _It’s a gift and it’s a responsibility. You need to use it, because it’s dangerous, but also, a part of who you are, like a hand or a foot. You can lose one, but not without consequences._

“I hurt someone,” she whispered now, even as she’d done then. “I hurt them and it scared me. I scared me.”

“There’s no reason for you to be afraid,” said a voice Jaina didn’t recognize, and she looked up, startled. There was a bird peering at her. It was huge, red and gold, with curling dark pink feathers coming from the side of it. It was perched on the railing by the bridge, which somehow didn’t burn, even though the bird itself was on fire. “Though I suppose you _are_ very small, but small mortals grow up, don’t they? My Kael’thas did.”

“I’m getting _bigger,”_ Jaina said, afraid, annoyed by being afraid, and not wanting to show it. “What are you supposed to be, a big fire chicken?”

“Ah, _such_ disrespect,” the bird said, fluffing its fiery feathers like so much offended fowl. “I suppose I should expect it from one who tastes so much of Neptulon’s kin. I am a _phoenix,_ the greatest of all firebirds. My name is Al’ar, and you may pet me.”

On the one hand, Al’ar was rude, stuffy, and stuck up. On the other hand, how often would Jaina get the chance to pet a talking bird? Tentatively, she reached out, stroking a finger along his bright plumage. He made a content noise and settled. Once Jaina got the hang of it, she began to pet him, carefully, the way one stroked a parrot or a cockatiel.

“Ah, very nice,” Al’ar said, and Jaina wondered if he always spoke that way. He made a happy noise, not so much a purr, but a trill like ringing bells. “You’re quite good at that. It’s why we keep you mortals around, you know. I don’t suppose you have a mote of fire?”

“No,” Jaina said. “I don’t think so. How do you get one?”

“My Kael’thas, when he is not _starving_ me, conjures them from the Plane of Fire,” Al’ar said, and peered at her. Interestingly, he had the same gold eyes that Bluey did, and Jaina wondered if they knew each other. “Why don’t you try it?”

“Um, okay,” Jaina said. “What does a mote of fire look like? Where’s the Plane of Fire?”

“Well, it’s… pure fire, the purest of its kind,” Al’ar said. “Some call it elemental fire, but that’s just redundant. As for where… really, what _are_ they teaching here these days?”

“I’ve only been here since yesterday,” Jaina said reproachfully. “And what I learned yesterday is that if you follow the yellow brick road, you can always get back to the Citadel, that Archmages don’t have to clean their rooms even if little girls do, and there are hero-mages that fight demons.”

“All true, all true,” Al’ar agreed, and settled against the railing. “Then, I shall instruct you. Take note.” Considering that Jaina had no way to take notes, and her fingers were too busy stroking Al’ar’s neck feathers, she said nothing. Al’ar puffed himself up, as self-important as anyone Jaina had ever seen, and began. “There are four great elemental planes, of earth, air, fire, and--” here he shuddered, “--water. Those who live there are elemental in nature, ruled over by one of the four Lords. The Lord of the Plane of Fire is Ragnaros. The Plane of Fire is also called the Firelands, do remember that.”

“Who’s Neptulon?” Jaina wanted to know, and even with a beak, Al’ar seemed to make a face.

“Neptulon is the leader of the Plane of Water, or the Abyssal Depths. Foul creature. In _any_ case, the elemental planes are located in Azeroth.”

“Isn’t it _on_ Azeroth?” Jaina said. “I remember, Mother said people live _in_ a city, but _on_ a world. Unless you mean the country.” She frowned. “It’s confusing.”

“It is,” Al’ar agreed, “but I do not. The elemental planes are located within Azeroth, but cut off from it. Contained, really. It was… a long time ago when it happened, and it was for the best.” He shook himself briefly. “Yes, for the best. Many have learned to behave themselves since then.”

“Okay,” Jaina said. “How did you get here then?”

“I was summoned,” Al’ar said. “As the king of all phoenixes, my conjuration was complex and required a great deal of hard work on the part of those who called me.” He sighed dreamily. “It involved _music,_ and I do so love it. There was one time when I--”

“Okay,” Jaina said again, indicating she didn’t much care, but was trying to be polite about it. “So what about elemental fire?”

“Ah, yes, of course.” Al’ar focused his attention on her. “Elemental creatures -- all of us, from the tiniest flame flies to the greatest Lords and their lieutenants -- require our element to survive. If we are not fed, we will die. This is true even of the others, but is is certainly true of fire elementals. We must eat, lest we fade. So the elemental plane is full of elemental fire, which we consume and are surrounded by. I am _much_ larger in the Firelands, far more impressive, the father to thousands of firefowl.”

“...so why can’t you just get the fire you want from there?” Jaina asked, curious. “If you’re so strong, that is.”

Al’ar huffed. “Ah, it takes a great deal of _time_ and _effort_ on my part to fetch my own motes of fire, and if I am to live on the material plane, should I not be compensated in some way?”

“I guess,” Jaina said, not wanting to tell the king of all phoenixes that he was being lazy. “So I just have to call one? In my hand?”

“If you are a mage, yes,” Al’ar said, and peered at her. “You _are_ a mage, are you not?”

“Um,” Jaina said, and rubbed at her nose. “I’m learning to be one.”

“Good, then this is an excellent lesson,” Al’ar said. “Go on, focus on a piece of fire. Just a small one, it may be all you can manage just now. It will have to do until my Kael’thas finds me again.”

Jaina jutted her chin out stubbornly, but held both hands out in front of her. In her mind, she tried to grasp the idea of flame, of fire, of something bright and glowing like a candle. In her head, the flame was subsumed by waves, bonfires were extinguished by buckets of sand and ash, and candles reflected in a bucket of water.

After a moment, she felt something in her hands, cool, clear, and pure, and opened her eyes. Between them, she held not fire, but _water._ As she stared at it, she could see the endless depths of the Ocean. She had been taught that, while she had been born of a mother and father, the ocean itself was her mother too, cradling her and all of those born in Kul Tiras, and those who had adopted it as their home.

There were monsters in the deep darkness, huge whales that could swallow ships whole, turtles that carried islands on their backs, squid called Kraken that were so large they could stretch across the Great Sea. Down and down she sank, past where the fish men swam, past where the snake women hissed and conjured spells, past things that had no name but shifted and scuttled and crawled…

And in the greatest depths of the darkness, where there was no air, no fire, scarcely any earth to be seen, there was an eye, a single great eye that stared up at her, irate, impatient, demanding.

 _What do you want_ now, _mortal?_

 _Hi,_ Jaina thought, as breathless as if she were having the air squeezed from her. _I didn’t know you were here._

 _A foolish thing to be ignorant of,_ the voice said, and she felt her ears hurt, aching from the pressure of it. _Did you not ask your companion where they were from?_

 _You mean, Bluey?_ Jaina asked, and the presence seemed to shudder. _No, I just thought he came from the ocean, like you._

 _I do, and do not, come from the ocean,_ the presence agreed, and then considered. The next question was asked slyly. _Do you want to see?_

 _I wouldn’t mind,_ Jaina said, curious. _WIll you show me?_

She felt, rather than heard, a laugh, and something seemed to reach for her.

“Jaina!” Her eyes flew open, and Bluey sped from the water, leaping like a dolphin at her. He aimed squarely for the glowing water in her hands and his form shifted, grew, and overwhelmed it, consuming it and pulling it into himself. For a moment, he seemed to glow.

“Wow,” Jaina said, and sat back. She was soaked to the skin, her hair plastered against her face and her clothes to her body. “Cool.”

“That was _not_ cool,” Al’ar huffed. “And that wasn’t a mote of fire at all, that was water. We’ll have to start over.”

“No, you’re _not,”_ Bluey said. “She was almost hurt! You big, blobby fire cloud, how dare you!”

“I’m fine,” Jaina tried to assure Bluey. “Just a little wet.”

Al’ar rose, half-opening his wings, like a hawk, or perhaps an indignant chicken. “Ah, you should be looking after her better, if she is not meant to hear Neptulon’s call,” the phoenix  declared. “And _we_ were talking, _you_ need not interfere.”

“You have your own familiar, you don’t get to steal mine!” Bluey said. “Camp smoke! Ash bucket!”

“Puddle!” Al’ar shrieked, flapping his wings and shedding sparks. “Trumped up water hole!”

“Um,” Jaina said, blinking, trying to squeeze the water out of her jacket. “You don’t have to yell.”

They ignored her, too involved in their argument -- which, by Jaina’s reckoning, had less to do with _her_ and everything to do with water disliking fire -- to pay attention. In the water, Jaina could see some sea chests floating gently in the lake.

 _Well, I guess I have to grab them, then,_ she thought, and took off her shoes, pouring out the water, wondering briefly where it had come from. _Oh well, I guess if I’m going to be wet, I can be useful wet._ She took off her jacket as well, meticulously setting her gun aside for it to dry, then taking off the harness.

It was probably too cold to swim, but she was going to do it anyway.

“--infernal _chicken--”_

“--moons-stupid _rain puddle--”_

“Bye,” Jaina said, and jumped from the bridge. It took only a heartbeat to hit the water, searing cold before it wasn’t, and Jaina surfaced, swimming towards one of the trunks. _Good thing cold doesn’t bother me much, at least, in the water._

One of the trunks was definitely hers, but the others weren’t. Like herding sheep, or wrangling chickens, she pushed them ahead of her, towards the shore.

 _“Jaina,”_ Bluey wailed frantically, sinking back down into the water. He reached her quickly, faster than one could imagine, and surrounded her, warming her further. “Don’t _do_ that, it’s dangerous!”

“Well, you kept _arguing,”_ Jaina said. “I’m not gonna sit there and wait while people argue about stupid stuff.”

“It’s _not_ stupid,” Bluey grumbled. “He’s a big, dumb fire chicken.”

“Ah, I _heard_ that,” Al’ar called. “I insist you come out of there and face me properly.”

“Nope,” Bluey said, and made a reverberating sound that was very much akin to a raspberry, or a wet fart.

Jaina sighed, and kept pushing at the trunks. As she worked, she saw two elves hurry over, one dressed in green and gold, the other in red and gold, with funny-shaped shoulder pads that seemed like they would get caught on things. She made a face.

“There you are,” said one of them. “You just disappeared. I thought you said you were going to find my lost trunk.”

“I _did,_ thank you,” said Al’ar smugly. “It’s right over there.” He spread his wing, gesturing. “But it’s wet, you can’t expect me to go in there.”

“Oh, for the love of…” The strangely-dressed elf turned, peering over at Jaina, and looking alarmed. “Are you alright?!”

“Yup,” Jaina said, pushing the first of the chests up against the lake’s shoreline. He hurried down, and raised his hands. The trunks rose in the air, rocking slightly, and then dropped onto the grass. “Good job.”

“Aren’t you cold?” the elf asked worriedly. They were beginning to draw a crowd, and Jaina kicked off the side of the lake, and swam back out to get the others. “I can just float them out!”

 “Nope,” Jaina said, because swimming gave her time to think. to consider, to ponder what was going on. It took several more trips to bring the trunks back to shore, a dozen in all, and one was hers. Another was a large, elaborate one, decorated in fiery birds, like Al’ar. Others were planer, blue or green or black, and while some looked like they had barely been touched, others seemed as though the lake had had its claws in them a long time.

“--incredible--”

“--haven’t seen since--”

“--strange--”

Jaina felt her temper rise, and scrambled out of the water before the lake, already cold in a distant way, started to freeze. Bluey murmured to her and slowly peeled himself from her, settling beside her. Rather than looking at people who likely hated her, she turned her gaze to her best friend, who was now of a height with her, instead of smaller, and she blinked.

“You got big,” she observed. “How’d you do that?”

“The water you summoned was very powerful,” Bluey said, and his voice had changed in subtle ways. “It made me bigger and stronger. You did a good job, but please don’t do it again, no matter what that _flaming chicken_ says.”

“Fl--” the elf paused, and looked to Al’ar, who had flown over to rest on one of his shoulder-pads. “What did you do?”

“Ah, I merely asked this fine young lady to fetch me a mote of fire,” Al’ar said, fluffing up his feathers. “Which was not very successful, I might add.”

“You asked a _child_ to summon something from the _Firelands_ and you expected it to work?!” the elf demanded, turning his head a little.

“That’s what _I_ was saying!” Bluey said, raising his watery fists.

“Hey,” Jaina said, and was ignored. Now the elf was yelling at Al’ar, Bluey was yelling at the elf, and the elf’s friend -- also an elf -- was snickering in the background. She tried again. “Hey.” They ignored her again. Now the crowd was whispering among themselves and she scowled. Focusing all of her might, she hauled back and kicked the elf in the shin as hard as she could. “I said, _hey!”_

The elf broke off from his argument, hopping and swearing. This dislodged Al’ar, who hovered in the air, hissing, and then vanished in a puff of embers that died before they hit the ground. The elf’s friend broke out laughing and approached, clearly avoiding the dripping trunks, and put his hands on his hips, looking down at her. She glared back up at him in turn.

“Hey, kiddo, that was amazing,” he said. “He totally deserved that _and_ he kicked me earlier. So go you. Thanks for rescuing his trunk.”

“I was looking for mine,” Jaina said curtly. “Where’d Al’ar go?”

“Probably back to the Firelands.” He shrugged. “We’re not completely sure. He just… goes places when he’s not with Kael. Maybe to go sulk in a lamp or something.”

“Bluey goes into the water,” Jaina said, with authority. “I can call him from there and he’ll come to me. If I’m bringing him places with no water, like somewhere indoors, he rides in a flask.”

“Makes sense,” the elf allowed. “I’m pretty sure we could carry a lamp around, but it would cramp our style.”

“Like doing real work?” she asked suspiciously, and he laughed.

“Exactly like that, yeah. Though I can do some cool fake work if you want to see.” When she nodded, wary, he waved his hand over the trunks. Water raced away from them, flowing back into the lake. This left the chests slightly swollen looking, but dry.

Jaina touched her own trunk, which was tightly sealed, and peered up at him. “How’d you do that?”

“Magic,” he said, shrugging. “I’m pretty good at it. I come from a long line of mages. My distant ancestor invented a bunch of the commonly used spells and artifacts used today.”

“Really?” Jaina asked, curious. “Which ones?”

The elf smiled wide, and opened his mouth. Immediately, his friend -- Kael -- covered his mouth with his hands. “He can tell you when you’re older,” he said. “Thank you, very much, for rescuing my luggage.”

She scowled at him. “I’m _not_ a baby. I know things.”

“I’m sure you do,” Kael said, looking amused. “However--”

Jaina opened her mouth and let loose the most impressive string of profanity she knew, accumulated from years of listening to her father, her brother, her grandmother, and all four of her aunts. Bluey turned dark green in embarrassment and both elves blinked at her, stunned.

“I’m going back to Kelnar’s,” she declared, deciding she’d had enough of being stared at. “Bye.”

She grasped for the handles of her sea chest, and lifted one side, beginning to drag. Small though it was, it was heavy. She scowled at it, at the crowd, and at the world in general. It promised to be a long walk, but she was determined to see it through.

“Okay, wait,” said the elf in green, freeing his mouth finally. “That was really impressive for, what, a five year old?”

“I’m _eleven,”_ she snapped. “I’m not a baby.”

“Yeah, I get that,” the elf said. “Do you want to see another cool trick?”

“...I guess.” Jaina stopped and turned, watching him. He grinned at her, and flicked his fingers at the air, and for a moment, it reminded her of Tandred playing his guitar -- strumming, he called it -- and the musical notes that came from it. In her hand, her trunk rose to float at her waist level. She tugged at it, and it moved as easily as though it were on ice, or water. “Okay, that _is_ cool.”

“See, hard work is for suckers.” He walked to her, leaving Kael to enchant his own trunk similarly. “You live here?”

“...for now,” Jaina said, and watched him warily. Smiling people, clever people, were sometimes very dangerous. “Why?”

“Because Kael and I can walk you home, maybe explain a little more about magic, since you seem confused,” he said. “I’m Kylian, by the way.”

“Jaina, don’t forget your _things,”_ Bluey called. He turned to the elves. “Humans have _things._ They need them.”

“They sure do, uh, who are you?” Kylian asked. “I didn’t think most elementals talked?”

“My name is Bluey,” he said, and put his watery fists in close approximation to his waist, an imitation of a hands-on-hips motion that nearly caused Kylian to lose it. “And we _can_ talk if we _feel_ like it.”

Jaina hurried back over to the bridge to fetch her jacket, which after a moment she decided to drape over her trunk to dry properly, and put her harness back on. She carefully checked her gun, made sure it worked, and tucked it away. Her trunk, even when she took her hand away, still floated obediently at her waist.

“Okay, Dalaran is officially more fun than Silvermoon,” Kylian declared. “Kael, let’s go.”

“And in the spirit of refusing to do work, you’re having me hover my own trunk?” Kael asked, and raised his hands, motioning in the air. His luggage rose into the air, dripping lake water. “I’ve already been introduced -- sort of -- but who are you?”

“I,” she declared, “am Jaina Proudmoore.”

“I feel like that explains a lot,” Kylian murmured, and pain flickered across his face briefly. “Hi. Firesong.” He indicated himself, then Kael. “Sunstrider.”

Jaina peered at them both, and fixed on Kael. “You’re a prince.”

Kael almost winced. “Yes.”

“Okay,” Jaina said, and shrugged. She pointed. “Kelnar lives that way. She has her own house.”

She began to walk, leaving the elves to follow. The crowd let them through, and Jaina ignored them. She was wet, and now starting to get cold, but she set her chin and kept going.

After a moment, Kael asked, “Are you supposed to be wandering around the city alone? It’s very big.”

“I’m not a--”

“Baby, I know,” Kael said, trying to be soothing. “Kylian and I were pretty confused by this place at first too, and we’ve visited here before, though only briefly.”

“I don’t get lost much,” Jaina said. “I’m good at navigating. Besides, if you get lost, all you have to do is follow the yellow-brick road. It leads to the Citadel. That’s what Antonidas told me when he brought me here.”

In unison, Kael and Kylian looked down at the roadway and then followed it with their gaze as best they could up to the Citadel.

“...follow the yellow-brick road,” Kylian muttered. “Why the hell didn’t we think of that?”

“...too lazy to do real work?” Jaina suggested, and Kylian laughed.

“You’ve got me there, and I’ll admit I didn’t notice… somehow. Man, that’s really gaudy.”

“Your face is really gaudy,” Jaina noted, and this time, Kael laughed, though he was clearly trying not to.

“You’re very different from most of the people we speak to,” Kael said. “You said… Antonidas brought you here? When was this?”

“Um, yesterday,” Jaina said. “He says I have to learn how to be a source-ress.”

“Sorceress,” Kael corrected absently, then his eyes widened. “Last night… you were the emergency, weren’t you?”

“Guess so.” Jaina shrugged uncomfortably. “I’m supposed to learn stuff about magic so I can control mine. Most of today has been trying to find my stuff. It got lost on the way here. Kelnar has to teach morning classes, but she said we’d go shopping later if we couldn’t find my things, and there was more to get for my classes. I need to go to school.”

“So does Kael,” Kylian said, nudging him with his elbow. “But he’s already been totally schooled.”

“Shut up,” Kael muttered. “I’ve already had it from Rommath. He already thinks this whole trip is stupid.”

“Fuck him,” said Jaina, helpfully, and they laughed. “Maybe he’s bad at school.”

“Rommath is a friend of ours,” Kylian explained. “He’s very talented, probably one of the best theoretical mages of our generation. He’s just… cranky, pretty much all the time. I don’t think he likes humans much, either.”

“Fuck him,” Jaina repeated. “There are lots of humans here, he needs to get used to them.”

“Isn’t that just the truth,” Kylian said. “So you’re a sorceress, right? What do you work with?”

“Um, I guess ice?” Jaina said. “Water, sometimes, and um… hiding. Is hiding a kind of magic?”

“Invisibility spell?” Kylian asked Kael, switching to Thalassian. “Is she serious?”

“Human sorcery is unpredictable,” Kael said. “She might be telling the truth.”

Jaina knew fewer swear words in the elven language -- Kelnar was more careful, but Finnall was always good for a few -- but she used them now, startling them again.

“Okay,” Kylian said, shaking it off first. “I get why you’d know it in Common, but how do you know how to cuss in Thalassian? There can’t be _that_ many elven sailors in Kul Tiras. Not any more.”

“Finn taught me,” Jaina said smugly. “She learned lots of words and she taught me some.”

“Finn is a friend of yours?” Kael guessed. “Someone from back home?”

“No,” Jaina said. “Finn’s my _sister._ Kelnar’s her mother. I’m staying at their house, though Finn might come see me tomorrow.”

Kael and Kylian exchanged a long look. “Kelnar… who?”

“Goldensword,” Jaina replied. “She’s _teaching_ here, I just said.”

“You did just say,” Kael agreed. “And Finn is… Finnall?”

“Yup,” Jaina said. “She’s in Silvermoon right now, learning to be a Spellbreaker. Do you know her?”

 “Technically, yes, though Silvermoon is a big place,” Kylian said. “We saw her briefly before she left. I guess that whole boat thing…”

“Da taught her,” Jaina said. “She wanted to be a Spellbreaker more, but it’s okay. We do lots of different things. I wanted to be a pirate.” Deep inside her, she still wanted to be one. Maybe mages could go sailing places, and rescue people as well as find hidden treasure. _Floating and drying would be useful things to know how to do._

“A pirate, where?” Kylian asked, curious. “The South Seas? Kalimdor?”

“Kezan,” Jaina said, decisive. “I’d travel back and forth and see the cow-men and the bird-ladies.”

“You don’t dream small,” Kael reflected. “I’m… not sure where we are.”

“The Citadel is over there. It’s big and purple.” Jaina rolled her eyes a little. “If you come out on this side, this is where people live. That big building over there is the dormitory building. It’s easy to get to and from the Citadel, and the Spires, where they teach people. Over here there are houses. The older students live in houses there. I’m not allowed to have one. Yet.”

Kylian opened his mouth, and Kael shook his head slightly. His companion wisely closed it.

“The teachers live here too, sometimes,” Jaina continued. “Kelnar lives close to the dormitory in case someone has an emergency. She teaches the first year students and helps them get ack-- ic… settled.”

“So, Kael should meet with her,” Kylian observed slyly. “He’s a first year student too.”

“Oh!” Jaina said, and peered at him. “But aren’t you a mage already?”

“I’m supposed to be learning things,” Kael said, rolling his eyes. “I can only stay if I’m a student. The others don’t need to. I think Antonidas was making a point.”

“Once again, I cruise by on minimal work,” Kylian said, smirking. “Another win for me.”

“Who else is with you?” Jaina asked, leading them through the more crowded walkways towards Kelnar’s house. “You said Rommath, but are there more?”

“Three more,” Kael said. “Ghlorine, Voren’thal, and Pathaleon. Pathaleon isn’t a mage, he’s an engineer. He learns how to combine magic and engineering together to make better golems and reinforce buildings. Sometimes weapons, but we don’t have much need for them. Not now, anyway.”

“Sweetberry knows things about that,” Jaina said. When they stared, she shrugged. “Antonidas showed me her office. She makes things like kettles, I think, too.”

“We’ll keep it in mind,” Kael promised her. “Voren’thal is a seer. He can see things in far away places, or times. It’s hard on him, sometimes. He has seizures. Ghlorine takes care of him, but she can’t do that all the time. She’s a theoretician too, like Rommath. That’s how they met, actually. Same study groups. She likes research and finding new ways to do things.”

It seemed like there was more, and Jaina peered between them, but neither said a word.

“You have a lot of friends,” Jaina observed quietly. “You’ve got Al’ar too. You’re his familiar.”

“He says that, but _he_ is _my_ familiar,” Kael said, slipping into this new conversation thread easily. “A very long time ago, my ancestor -- and Kylian’s -- summoned him and forged a pact between him and Dath’remar’s bloodline. Since then, he’s been part of the family. He comes and goes, but we’ve been close since I was very young.”

“Like me’n Bluey,” Jaina said. “He rescued me when I was little, and now we’re best friends.”

“I can see that,” Kael said, smiling. “What about your other friends?”

Jaina looked away, and her eyes stung the way they hadn’t in the lake. “I don’t have any.”

“Seriously?” Kylian said, frowning. “None? Not even back home?”

“No,” Jaina said, and walked a little faster. “None.”

“Hey, wait up, I need to be in range,” Kylian said. “Don’t make me expend effort.”

“Leave Jaina alone!” Bluey burbled. “People were mean to her before, and you can’t be mean to her now.”

Kael looked stricken. “I’m… sorry. Is there--”

“Jaina, _there_ you are!” cried Kelnar. Jaina looked up and the elven woman rushed up to embrace her tightly. “I was so worried, I told you to wait at home.”

“I wanted to find my stuff,” Jaina said simply. “I found some people too.” She indicated her companions. “Kael, and Kylian.”

Kelnar paused, peering at them. “Kael’thas… Sunstrider?”

“I am, yes,” Kael said, straightening, looking braced for questions. “At your service.”

“Why are you on my new student roster?”

Kylian laughed a little. “Maybe we could come inside, and tell you all about it?”

Kelnar looked at him, squinted, and nodded once, then ushered Jaina and her guests inside.


	6. Early Spring, Y14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is Rommath/Kael porn at the end, after the last story break, so if you want to skip right to it, there you go.

Kelnar’s house was small, as elven residences went, and had the sensation of being lived in. Runes gleamed on the upper parts of the walls, lined along the sealing, and Kael studied them closely.

 _That one wards against fire, that one against mould. Why is a rune to ward off flooding necessary, surely the lake doesn’t rise_ that _much? That one repels dust, and that one insects. Those ones there are insulating, though I wonder why. Why wouldn’t the most magical city in the Kingdoms have weather control?_

“Come, sit,” Kelnar said. “I usually have these kinds of meetings in my office, but since you brought Jaina and her things home, this is the least I can do.”

Elves didn’t bustle, not the way humans did, so Kelnar glided from place to place, looking subdued but elegant as she steered Jaina’s trunk into her room, and Kylian let go of the levitation spell with a soft series of whistled musical notes. While Kelnar helped Jaina unpack and find clean, dry things to wear, Kael sat in one of the offered chairs, and looked around.

It was obvious that Kelnar cleaned things here by hand: some of the glassware was slightly smudged or had droplets of water clinging to the sides. The countertops were mostly wiped clean, but there were things cluttered on top of them, empty bottles or cans, and devices used but not put away.

Electric kettles, it seemed, were popular here, while most elves claimed that they ruined the flavour and taste of tea, so even those least inclined towards doing hard work still used pot kettles on little stoves. Not so here, and there were other things, a clear jar full of curved blades that baffled Kael, an L-shaped structure over an oversized metal bowl, even a long, flat box, covered by a lid that had slats in it.

Kylian wandered over to take a look, poking at it briefly before looking at Kael, confused. “It’s… got knives on it?”

“It’s a thin slicer,” Kelnar said, returning to the kitchen and shooing Kylian to the table. She filled the kettle with water and put the lid back on, then plugged it into an outlet on the wall. “You can adjust the thickness to make very thin slices, smaller than you could cut it manually, and it's easier on the hands. I use it to make spicy beet chips.”

“...what are beet chips?” Kylian wanted to know. Kelnar made a face at him.

“Delicious, is what they are,” she said. “I suppose this is your first lesson about Dalaran, that things are different here. There are no golems to do your work for you. Servants who tend to specific needs do exist, but they expect to be paid a premium for their work. I don’t usually bother with it. I take care of myself.” She gestured to the countertops, the cold box, and the unobtrusive but ubiquitous presence of the wine rack, carefully contained within a locked cabinet. “You’ll need to as well if you’re living on your own. In the dormitories things are more structured, but they’re meant to take care of the needs of children focused on learning, rather than adults doing adult things.”

“Is it too late to ask to stay in the dorms instead?” Kylian asked, and Kael poked him.

“We can’t have sex there, so no.”

“You’d be surprised,” Kelnar murmured, and shook her head. “No, you can, and should, get used to independence here. It’s not as though we’re sending you out into the wilds of Alterac or some such thing. You will need to learn to cook for yourselves, or at least order takeaway responsibly. Since you’re elves…” She dropped her voice. “If you register with one of the people from the Embassy, they’ll give you a rack and a cabinet like mine and supply you regularly. No need to worry about running out. We keep things quiet, even here. Do not, under any circumstances, let unauthorized persons drink it.”

Kylian nodded, looking serious for once in his life, and Kael glanced towards the doorway Kelnar had come from, where the young human girl’s bedroom was located. “What would happen if they did?”

“In the best case scenario, they’d be very sick, as though suffering from mage fever.” Kelnar sighed. “At the worst, it would kill them, cripple them, or transform them into something entirely new. No one’s been careless enough to screw that up during my time here. Even the dormitory students are separated out that way, and _their_ drink is controlled by the elven chefs. The humans have no access to it.”

“It sounds like there’s a good system in place,” Kael murmured, and then let his voice rise again to normal volume. “How busy is the schedule?”

“It’s fairly intensive, I have the catalogue here. Actually, once Jaina is ready, we can all look together.” Kelnar fetched a book, large but slim, the pages seeming glossier and smoother than normal paper, and the cover had the words ‘Curriculum Y14’ stamped on it in glittering gold letters over a dark blue cover.

“Do you come up with a new one of these every year?” Kylian wanted to know, curious. “I assumed there’d be some kind of tradition involved.”

“Using auguries and various other forms of scrying, we look ahead to make sure when and how we can schedule our classes. It would be fairly useless to have classes about celestial observation on the wrong days, or alchemical studies on days when tinctures would most likely fail. Our methods work very well, and we rarely get things wrong.” Kelnar opened up the book, and without turning her head, said, “Come and sit down.”

“Okay,” Jaina said. Kael looked over at her. Instead of sodden finery, Jaina was dressed in a tunic and breeches that seemed a shade too big for her, and slippers that shuffled and scuffed along the floor. She looked wary, or perhaps afraid. She tugged a chair out and sat, resting her elbows on the table.

Kael waited for Kelnar to snap at her to sit up straight, and to tell her that tables were for food, not limbs, but she didn’t. Instead, she pointed to the first block of courses. “These are the basic, preliminary courses. Some of those who come to us can’t read or write in Common. This is rare, but it happens. You don’t always have to be educated to be a mage, and in some cases, they _were_ educated, but they couldn’t learn the way others did. So we help them through that. These classes are available to anyone who can make it to Dalaran, not just mages.”

“I can read, and write,” Jaina said. “I can show you.”

“We’ll test you, Sunfish, but I’m sure you can.” Kelnar kissed Jaina’s temple lightly, the way a parent would do for a child, and Kael felt a sudden, unreasonable stab of jealousy. Kylian’s gaze was carefully averted away, as though bored, not upset, not sickened in some way.

 _I’ll have to talk to him after,_ Kael thought, and slipped his hand under the table to take Kylian’s. He squeezed Kael’s fingers, and then lifted Kael’s hand to rest lightly on the inside of his thigh. _Typical._

“These other classes are also like that. Basic mathematics. Basic science, both natural and alchemical. Basic history. There’s an evaluation and if they feel as though you need them, you’ll take them. They’re short, in some cases, enough to make sure you’re up to speed. Since some of our students come from other places, places far away, they teach different people different things.”

“I came from far away,” Jaina said. “So did Kael.”

Kelnar glanced at Kael, and her lips quirked briefly. “He did, indeed. Most of our students are either from Dalaran, or Lordaeron. We don’t have many sorcerers come here, though we do our best to track down every one we can. We want to show them how wonderful their magic can be.”

“...so there aren’t many people here from Quel’thalas, either?” Kael asked, curious. “Or are the elves that are here counted as residents of Dalaran rather than Quel’thalas?”

“That depends on who you ask,” Kelnar admitted. “I consider myself a resident of Dalaran, rather than an expatriate of Quel’thalas. I have family back in Silver Hollow, but I don’t intend to return there to live. There are others who do want to go home. Many of the elves here have been here a generation or two, but there are always more. People who are… unhappy with the way things are in Quel’thalas. Anger with the Conclave and their slow decision making is common.”

“The Conclave,” Kael began, and then stopped. “The Conclave exists to curb the power of the King. He can make no decisions without their say-so, and his power primarily exists to lead the Circle and control the Sunwell.”

“That seems dumb,” Jaina piped up. “If he’s so powerful, why can’t he make them do whatever he wants?”

“Because ordering people around is never as good an idea as it sounds,” Kelnar said, and put a hand on Jaina’s hair, stroking it gently. “It’s like a Captain directing a ship, but a Captain doesn’t lead by whim alone. Your father is loved and respected by his sailors and marines, but if he was being a fool, they would _tell_ him so, and he would listen. He wouldn’t drag them into danger just because he wanted to, and they wouldn’t just let him.”

“Not to mention,” Kael added quietly, “that things _were_ like that, a very long time ago, when we -- the elves -- lived in Kalimdor, far across the Great Sea, before there _was_ a sea.”

“Before there was a _sea?”_ Jaina repeated, eyes wide. “But there’s always been one!”

“Not always,” Kelnar said. “A very long time ago, the elves were ruled by a Queen. People thought she was beautiful, and she was. People thought she was clever, and she was. People thought she was good… and she wasn’t. She was able to get people to do whatever she wanted because of those three things… and then the demons came.”

“She made a… a deal with the leader,” Kael said. “Of the demons. She traded the lives and souls of her people to demons for more power, more rulership. She was greedy, always hungry for more. People fought back. My ancestor, Dath’remar the Sun Strider, fought back.”

“It was a war,” Jaina said, “and a lot of people died.”

“Yes,” Kael said, wondering how much he should say. _On the other hand, it’s not as though she hasn’t lost family too, we know that well enough. Most of the people I’ve known have, though not me._ He glanced up at Kylian, who had a blank expression on his face. Not anger, not grief, just nothing. Kael squeezed his thigh. _I wonder if that’s what makes my father doubt me so much, because of how little I’ve lost._

“In the middle of the land was a great wellspring of power,” Kelnar said. “You’ll learn about leylines and nodes, as well as their significance, later on in your studies. What you need to know now is that the wellspring was the heart of all magic. Only people who could use it had magic. Only the elves. The demons had tainted it, made it dirty and poisonous, like stagnant water or… or…”

“Rotting food,” Kael offered. “Bad fish, the kind that makes you sick if you try eating it anyway.”

“Bad clams,” Jaina suggested. “Like the time Tandred ate some and he puked for three days straight.”

“Gross,” Kylian said, shaking his head a little. “But like that. There were two factions that fought against the evil queen: the ones that liked magic and wanted to save it, and the ones that hated magic and wanted to see it destroyed. Then there was one who sort of straddled those two factions, making them work together, helping them cooperate.”

“Illidan,” Kelnar said, and there was soft reverence to her voice. “Illidan, the Saviour.”

“Illidan was said to have invented a technique for fighting demons, and raided the queen’s very library for information about how to stop them,” Kael said, smiling briefly. If he closed his eyes, he could still picture it, a man who looked like his father, like _him,_ wielding the crested sword and shield of the Sunguard, fighting side-by-side with a hero that seemed so great in his mind that it filled him with warmth. “He also had managed to save vials of the wellspring’s water, the source of power, before it was tainted beyond repair.”

“The other faction called for the wellspring’s destruction, saying it was the only way to stop the queen and the demons. Both factions agreed, but when it was destroyed, it nearly split the world in two. The continent broke in half, and scattered across half of Azeroth, pushing Northrend into the coldest regions, and creating Kezan and all the South Seas isles. The place where the wellspring used to be is still marked on every map, because it’s the Maelstrom.”

“I’ve seen it!” Jaina said, eyes wide. “Sometimes in the Summer, when it’s _really_ clear, you can see a storm in the distance. Da says it never moves, it’s just always there, and that’s where the rain comes from.”

“Most days, yes,” Kelnar agreed. “We’ll teach you about weather patterns and planetary rotation too. It was a hard time for people, because without magic, without their cities, without much of anything but their lives, they were afraid of starving.”

 _Without arcwine, or whatever they needed then, too,_ Kael thought, but kept it to himself. “They needed help, and soon.”

“My ancestor, Adaraxiel the Fire’s Song, knew that the world needed magic,” Kylian said, taking up the tale. “Magic was a part of it, and once the wellspring was destroyed, it needed to go somewhere. It needed an anchoring point into the world, or… everything would be--” He paused, and glanced at Kelnar.

“Fucked,” Jaina said, helpfully. “I know the right word and you do too, probably.”

“Sailor’s daughter,” Kelnar said, rolling her eyes. “A day a Proudmoore doesn’t swear, the moons would drop out of the sky.”

“Got it. Yeah, everything would be pretty fucked, but that’s where Illidan comes in again. He found a big lake, at the top of a mountain, and used some of the wellspring’s water to make a new wellspring of power, an anchor point and the place that all magic is drawn to eventually. It saved Azeroth from… withering, I guess. Becoming a dead husk in space.”

Kelnar, Kael, and Kylian all shuddered in unison, but Jaina’s eyes gleamed. _“Cool.”_

Kael laughed a little, despite himself. “Yes, I suppose it was cool too. Unfortunately, the other faction didn’t much like that Illidan was trying to bring magic back, because they didn’t understand how important it was. They were afraid. So they arrested Illidan, took him away.”

Jaina peered at him. “Did he die?”

“Probably,” Kael said, sighing. “They claimed he was only jailed, but no one believed them. Why would they, after how they treated him? Still, the deed was done, and the new wellspring was working, but the other faction banned people from using it or even really being too close to it. It was… unfair. It was very unfair. Eventually, my ancestor and Kylian’s led an exodus to other lands, better ones, and that’s how we came here.”

“Uncle Revilgaz said that there are big parts of Kalimdor you’re not allowed to visit,” Jaina said, frowning. “All the forests and the places up north. Is that where the descendants of the people from the other faction live?”

“They might be, if they survived at all,” Kael said. “Most scholars think that they died, that without magic their civilization fell. Most of the time… I think it would serve them right. Sometimes, I just feel sorry for them.”

“We’ve ventured off-topic, I think,” Kelnar said lightly. “The point is, the Conclave exists in Silvermoon so that there never is another all-powerful ruler who can drag our civilization into ruin again. Everyone has a voice that they can use to express themselves, though unfortunately, the Conclave can be very…”

“Full of themselves,” Kylian said. “Dad says that most of the meetings are people either standing around arguing, sitting around arguing, or lounging around arguing, depending on how heated things get.”

“He’s exaggerating,” Kael said. “People aren’t allowed to bring lounging chairs into the Chamber. The last person who did was fined.”

“So,” Jaina said, the words coming carefully, and Kael realized with a start how _young_ she was, even and especially for a human. She grappled with the political concepts briefly. “The king _is_ like a Captain, but all captains have officers, and a steersman, and a quartermaster, so the king needs those things too, and a lot more people, so they don’t drive their ship onto the rocks and kill everyone. Right?”

“Right,” Kelnar said, and kissed her temple again. “You’re getting it. Different places have different governments. Your father rules his way, and the elves rule a different way. Dalaran has two major ruling councils, one for the mages, and one for everyone else.”

“Yeah, I heard about that,” Kylian said, and in defiance of proper behaviour and good posture, he leaned forward to rest his elbow on the table. Kelnar raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, and Kael used the movement to cover the soft stroke of one finger along his best friend’s groin. “I feel like some of it’s pretty intuitive, but how does it work?”

“The Six are the leaders of the Kirin Tor, the mages sworn to the government of Dalaran. All of the Six are members of the Kirin Tor, but not all of the Kirin Tor are members of the Six. Antonidas is Archmage over them all, which can be confusing since _any_ senior mage is an archmage, and only archmages can be a part of the Six.” Kelnar glanced at Jaina. “The difference between an archmage and a normal mage, who is called magister or magistrix, is about five years of extra education.”

“And they don’t have to clean their rooms,” Jaina said, oddly triumphant. Kelnar laughed.

“No, they _do_ need to clean their rooms, or they should. Clean living is healthy living. In any case, the Six are the archmages with the most seniority within the Kirin Tor, and usually this means the oldest, though not always.” Kelnar spread her hands. “Elves have a bit of an advantage for age, so there are some measures preventing the elves from dominating the Six. Archmage Krasus, whom you may have met already, is the current serving elf and he has been for…” Her expression became vague for a moment. “...a long time.”

“We did, he rescued us,” Kael said, before Kylian could. “He’s been here a long time? I’ll admit, I’ve heard of the Goldenmist family, but I don’t interact with them much. I don’t recall if they even have a representative in the Conclave.”

“There may be an estate, but he’s lived here longer than I have,” Kelnar said. “He must be close to retirement age, but he doesn’t look it. He’s in remarkably good shape.”

“He sure is,” Kylian said, and Kelnar rolled her eyes.

“Usually, the Archmages chosen for the Six have some kind of specialization that benefits the Kirin Tor and Dalaran as well. Krasus was the war representative to Lordaeron, and he fulfils those duties when needed still, but that’s less often now, since the peace. Antonidas and Modera have also been part of the Six for many years, since before the Orc Wars began.” Kelnar smiled sadly. “They knew Khadgar, and… others, that have since been lost.”

Kael nodded soberly. “So that’s the Six, what about the other council?”

“The other council is led by a mayor,” Kelnar said, and clarified, “an elected official chosen from the residents of a particular location. In this case, Dalaran. Many of the local human governments hold elections and have mayors that govern a particular village or territory, though a Highlord represents their province to the King or Queen. In this case, the mayor’s council represents the non-magic users to the mages.”

“That must be… messy,” Kael ventured, and Kelnar shrugged.

“I don’t deal as much with them myself, but their purpose is to give those people a voice, in a similar way that the Conclave gives the families of Silvermoon a voice. Any resident of good standing can vote, though they have to have been identified as strictly non-magic using. The trouble is, some mages can get _very_ caught up in their own heads. Many of the conveniences in Dalaran exist because the non-mages reminded the mages that they can’t just snap their fingers and make things happen.”

“You can do that?” Jaina asked, eyes widen. “Just snap your fingers and--”

Kelnar reached out, putting her hand over Jaina’s. “Not usually, but many people who aren’t mages don’t understand mages very well, even if they live with them. Many elven mages, and human sorcerers, _can_ snap their fingers and make things happen, but without knowing what they’re doing or how it will affect someone, they shouldn’t. Okay?”

“...okay,” Jaina said, and bowed her head. Kelnar drew her close for a hug, even as Kael and Kylian exchanged looks in confusion.

 _I have to assume there’s a story about that._ Kael cleared his throat a little. “I had noticed some of the wards seem a little… unnecessary, or redundant. Surely the Six control the weather here.”

“They don’t, though the weather is a little milder here on the lake than it is in, say, Hearthglen or Hillsbrad. They both get huge amounts of snow.” Kelnar shuddered a little. “It’s not possible to weave the spells together to do that here, not to mention it would affect the surrounding countryside. We have plenty of conveniences -- self-clearing streets, indoor heating, good plumbing -- but you’ll get to see snow. Just be happy we don’t get the awful weather that Kul Tiras does. It _rains.”_

“I _like_ rain,” Jaina said, muffled by Kelnar’s shoulder. “But at least the lake is nice for swimming.”

“I had wondered how you got so wet,” Kelnar murmured. “Did you scare anyone?”

“Bluey was a little worried, I think,” Jaina said. “But I was fine. I swim like a fish! ...except for that one time.”

“Except for that one time,” Kelnar agreed, and released her. “There’s another reason for the wards, and that’s that mages here rarely confine their experimentation to laboratories and work hours. We have regular incidents of _something_ going wrong, so our houses are protected against it, especially here.”

“I’m pretty sure the Astromancers back in Silvermoon would flip,” Kylian murmured. “They’re incredibly strict about that kind of thing.”

“Presumably, because the spellwork in Quel’thalas is more delicate than it is here,” Kelnar said, and then leaned in to stage-whisper to Jaina, “and because elves are very stuffy.”

Jaina peered up at Kael and nodded. “I can see that.”

“Hey,” Kael said, frowning. “I’m not.”

“You kind of are,” Kylian said, grinning cheekily. “It’s okay though, I know _just_ how to loosen you up.”

“Belore, save me,” Kael muttered. “Before I--”

Al’ar burst into view in a shower of sparks and light, and landed on Kael’s shoulder, feeling heavy for a moment, then as though he hardly weighed anything at all. “Ah, I am here to save you!” he cried. “What is--” The kettle whistled noisily, and his feathers fluffed up. “An attack!”

“You are _such_ a stupid chicken,” Kael muttered, and it was his turn to lean against the table, folding both arms so he could rest his forehead on top of them. Al’ar walked down his back as he moved.

“I am _not_ a chicken, you oversized feeder!”

Jaina burst out laughing, and Kael felt his cheeks burn.

~ * ~

It was late in the evening by the time Kael and Kylian returned to their room at the Citadel. They had stayed for dinner with Kelnar and Jaina, a meal that had both reminded Kael of Quel’thalas and had been as distant from it as Dalaran was. Jaina’s schedule had been sorted out, and she had been tucked into bed under protest, and then, afterwards, Kelnar had poured them all arcwine and offered them treats while Kael went through the course book, trying to determine what would count as ‘actually being a student’ for the purposes of being allowed to stay.

 _I think I’m in most of Jaina’s classes,_ he mused as he made his way through the dimly lit corridors. _I can’t help but feel that was done deliberately, too. Kelnar wants someone to look after Jaina. She must be… so lonely, so far away from home._

A pang of sadness hit Kael, and he pushed it back. He brushed his lips along Kylian’s neck, and focused on the sound of his best friend’s giggle. He didn’t miss his father, who had never wanted him. He didn’t miss the Conclave, necessary as they were, but narrow-minded, unnecessarily restrictive, and as vicious as a pit of vipers. He didn’t miss the unrestricted, golden sunset from his rooms in Sunfury Spire; Dalaran had sunsets too, though the horizon was mostly choked with buildings, which was still pretty, but not stunning.

He didn’t miss his rooms, large and empty unless he could convince a friend or two to join him, at all.

“We’re almost there,” Kael murmured. “You hit the wine too hard.”

“I’m _fine,”_ Kylian slurred. “Fine like your ass.”

“You wouldn’t be able to find my ass with both hands and your dick,” Kael told him fondly, and he giggled again. “We’re almost there.”

Kael opened the door to their room, and found it bereft of their other roommate. Kael eased Kylian down onto the bed, undressing him and fending off eager, groping hands. He kissed his best friend hard, tasting the magic and alcohol intermixed on his lips, pushing him down into bed, then, before he could tug Kael down, covered him with the blanket, up to his chin.

“Night,” Kylian said, giggling softly, and then said, “she hates me, doesn’t she? I’m never going to see her again.”

“No,” Kael said immediately. “She doesn’t hate you, she’s just angry. You’ll see her again.”

Kylian swallowed thickly, looking up at Kael in a drunken haze. “I hate me.”

“I know,” Kael said, and kissed his forehead. “Get some sleep.”

Kylian nodded, and closed his eyes. Sighing heavily, Kael got up, and changed out of his heavy garb, instead slipping on a sleeping robe. He brushed his hair for a little while, thinking, and then went to the other room. He knocked softly, and Rommath opened the door.

“Where have you been?” he demanded. “It’s been an entire day.”

“Busy,” Kael said, though he winced. “I’d like to come in and explain things to everyone else.”

Rommath glanced behind him pointedly, looking for Kylian, and then opened the door the rest of the way. “We figured out how to get meals here, after you had breakfast delivered. Ghlorine and Pathaleon went to the library in shifts.”

“...and now you’re bored,” Kael observed, and looked around. Voren’thal and Pathaleon were curled up in one bed, arms and limbs tangled around one another, while Ghlorine was in the other bed. He raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you take my room if they were using both beds?”

Rommath said nothing, and Kael nodded once, in understanding. He took Rommath’s hand. “I can explain things in the morning, come with me.”

It only took Kael a moment to lead Rommath back into the other room, where Kylian had rolled over and was snoring softly. Rommath raised a dark eyebrow.

“Did he get drunk?” Rommath asked softly, and raised a hand, cupping Kael’s cheek, stroking his jaw with a thumb.

“A little,” Kael said, pressing against his touch. “Still, safer this way.”

“Mm,” Rommath said, leaning in. Each of Kael’s friends kissed differently; Kylian was playful, and Pathaleon was hesitant and liked to touch. Voren’thal tended to savour kisses, as though he could feel more from them than anyone else could, and Ghlorine was decorous, almost polite with her treatment of Kael.

Rommath liked to kiss rough, hungry and demanding, as if craving more than just contact from him. There was no exception this time, and he pushed until it was just shy of actually hurting. The sensation of it moved through Kael’s nerves like a flash fire and pooled between his legs.

Kael reached down, tugging Rommath’s robes open, and pressed himself against the other elf’s groin. Rommath groaned into his mouth and ran his hands down Kael’s sides, possessive, insistent, pushing him towards the free bed. Kael went, step by careful backwards step.

Once Rommath was certain of the fall, he shoved Kael, who sprawled onto the messy sheets, and was on top of him in an instant, kissing him again and again. Kael managed to reach up, pulling Rommath’s robes from his shoulders, and stroked his fingers in insistent patterns along Rommath’s back.

This only served to slow his friend by moments, tugging Kael’s robes open roughly, and running his fingers greedily over Kael’s frame, as though he could claim it for his own.

“I wish you would,” Kael murmured. “Make me yours.”

“Be patient,” Rommath breathed. “I’m not supposed to hurt you.”

The roughness of his voice almost made up for the feeling of rebellious disappointment with the statement. Rommath’s fingers moved down between Kael’s thighs, stroking them until they sat wide, and then dipped downwards, taking Kael’s cock in one hand and pumping it, while the other crept underneath his sac and further down to stroke over his entrance.

“Sun,” Kael panted, his hips rising. “Fuck me.”

“Does that work with Kylian?” Rommath asked, and worked his mouth over Kael’s jaw, kissing at the pulse point where it met his neck. Kael tensed with anticipation, knowing what was coming next. “Doesn’t he make you beg for it?”

“Not much,” Kael whispered, and his cock jumped. “Please.”

Rommath smiled, and Kael could feel his teeth. His lips brushed down his neck, kissing, then sucking, gently at first and then rougher, as though he could draw the blood from Kael’s body through it alone. Kael groaned and writhed as Rommath marked him.

He had a talented mouth, when he wasn’t using it to complain.

While Kael was distracted, wriggling and wanton, Rommath summoned lubricant to his fingers with a cantrip so simple that it could be done without speaking, or significant finger movement, a spell as old as the first elven empire.

Kylian liked to brag that it was one of his ancestor’s greatest accomplishments, and as far as a group of mostly-male elves who liked to have sex with each other was concerned, it probably was.

Rommath’s nostrils flared as he breathed, giving himself more time with Kael’s neck, while he stroked Kael’s entrance. Kael relaxed, as easily as breathing, even as his heart hammered in his chest. Rommath pushed two fingers into him and he arched, eager to be touched, eager to be entered and pressed down into the sheets among blankets, sheets, and his own robes, which he was still half-wearing, improper in the extreme.

It was shameless and wanton and he wanted everything Rommath could give him, everything Kylian tried, and more.

“Give it to me,” Kael moaned. “Please. Please, Rommath.”

“Patience,” his friend whispered against his skin as he worked his fingers in, stretching him carefully. He didn’t _want_ Rommath to be careful. He wanted the roughness that the dark haired man’s mouth promised. He tried to reach up for him, and Rommath gripped his wrists, gathering them together and pinning him down.

 _That’s more like it,_ he thought, and arched a little harder. In response, Rommath nipped him, and his hips jerked. His friend chuckled in his ear, amused and the tiniest bit sinister. Rommath pulled his fingers out and stroked himself a few times before pushing into Kael, who groaned, and his eyelids fluttered closed.

In his mind, he imagined someone different, someone bigger. A presence that overwhelmed him, dominated him totally. Rommath was doing his best -- now, one hand was gripping each wrist, holding Kael down against the mattress. His hip movements were firm, and less gentle than Kael had feared they would be. Rommath’s mouth worked over his neck again, and, at the apex of his thrust, bit down.

Kael cried out, his hips arching hard, and he could feel the first of his release smear against Rommath’s stomach. He tried to hold onto the vision of the shadowed figure looming over him, but Rommath wasn’t _quite_ big enough, not different enough from Kael’s own build. Rommath did it again, and then again, spilling into Kael with a low groan.

“Say it,” Kael murmured, letting himself go limp under him. He opened his eyes, and met Rommath’s puzzled, but amused, gaze. “Please.”

“Mine,” Rommath said, obliging, and kissed him. Kael was pliant under his ministrations as Rommath helped him relax again, releasing his wrists to pet him. Rommath and Kylian came the closest to giving what he wanted most, and neither of them truly understood what he wanted.

He didn’t want a partner, as such. He, like the kingdom he was destined to inherit, wanted a ruler.

Whoever could do that would claim his heart along with a crown, and he feared that he would never find them.


	7. Early Spring, Y14

When Kael awoke in the morning, he was alone in bed, but the soft sounds he could hear from the other side of the bed indicated that he had not been abandoned. Kael rolled onto his side, legs tangled in the mess of sheets and blankets, to watch Kylian buck and writhe under Rommath’s mouth, pale fingers threaded through dark hair.

Lazily, he ran his hand between his legs, and stroked a little.

As though somehow realizing that Kael was awake now, Kylian increased the volume of his sounds threefold, putting effort into sounding wanton, begging Rommath for more. His hips rose, and Kael could see Rommath was three fingers deep in Kylian, and smirked.

Kael could imagine the feeling of Rommath’s mouth on his cock, or Kylian’s fingers inside him, and he stroked a little faster. It took a few more minutes for Kylian to orgasm, and he was loud with it, though nonspecific with whom he called out for.

Kylian was many things, but no one could say he didn’t learn from his mistakes.

“You know,” Kael said, his cheeks flushed as he cleaned the mess between his own legs. “That saying about blowjobs being cures for hangovers is supposed to be about  _ giving  _ and not  _ receiving.” _

“Where’s the fun in that?” Kylian asked lazily, and smiled. “Morning, Kael. Join us?”

“As much fun as it would be, we can’t stay in bed and have sex all day,” Kael said, and stretched slowly, arching his back a little. “We should order breakfast and discuss what’s happening, assuming the others are awake.”

“Arguably, they could also be awake, and having sex all morning,” Kylian said, and Rommath slapped his thigh lightly. “Hey.”

“They aren’t,” Rommath said shortly, and rose. “Calling the bathroom first.”

Kylian rolled his eyes. “Try not to slip and fall on your slick personality.”

Rommath snorted and rose, walking to the bathroom naked, and both of them followed the curve of his bare ass and the length of his back with their gaze.

“How are you feeling?” Kael asked, once Rommath was inside.

“Come find out,” Kylian suggested and Kael rolled out of bed, moving towards him. He climbed into the other bed, on top of Kylian, and kissed him. Kylian opened his mouth, eager and more than ready to take advantage of Kael in a rarer dominant mood.

Kael couldn’t push forward more than kissing, and Kylian’s enthusiasm didn’t waver, just touching him, running his fingers over Kael’s back.

Kael let magic flicker between them, like sparks of flame. [I mean it, how are you feeling?]

[Better,] Kylian said, his voice the whisper of falling ash. [It’s hard, sometimes, especially when we go to new places where I can’t hide as easily.]

[You shouldn’t need to,] Kael said, skimming his fingers along Kylian’s chest. [The mistakes you make in haste shouldn’t ruin the rest of your life.]

[I’d rather make out with you than talk about this,] Kylian reminded him, and raised his hips suggestively. [Or other fun things.]

[Remember, not ‘all morning’,] Kael said, and he felt Kylian grin under his mouth. Kael broke off the kiss, and trailed his lips along Kylian’s jaw, up to his ear, sucking lightly as Kylian moaned. His best friend had been his first -- the earliest kisses were clumsier, less sure and practiced than they were now -- and while Kylian had found the person he loved and lost her through sheer stupidity, and Kael hadn’t found ‘the one’ yet, they always went back to one another.

Kael’s fingers knew the exact places to make Kylian’s breathing hitch, and Kylian knew how to steer him, to give orders without words or even the connection that swirled between them, a bond between mages and close friends, one born of fire, sex, and deep understanding.

Kael’s mouth found Kylian’s nipple, suckling and lapping at it, running his hands along Kylian’s stomach. He could feel the shift of Kylian’s abdomen under his fingertips, feel the way he was stirring and eager for more. He sensed, rather than heard, the desire in Kylian’s voice, ash shifted by wind.

[Kael, more.] It was an order, though it lacked firmness. Still, Kylian was at least  _ trying.  _ His hands wandered downwards, stroking Kylian’s stomach. His best friend’s cock was firming, and he took it in his hands, massaging slowly, carefully. Obliging without seeming teasing, though he definitely was.

[What is it that you wish of me?] Kael asked, and if Kylian was dying embers, he was a firebird, roaring, but easily tamed, kept in hand. Magic had a signature to it, and the stronger the mage -- the more powerful the sorcerer -- the more distinctive it was.

Kael couldn’t have hidden his magical signature if he tried, but there would never be a need for it. Not within his circle of friends, in a very magical place.

[Fuck me,] Kylian thought succinctly, though there were flashes of insight, of where he wanted Kael to stroke him, and he obeyed. Kylian reached up, stroking his fingers along Kael’s arms, threading through his hair, resting on his chest, fluttering from place to place like a butterfly, or a bird. Eventually, Kylian cupped him, stroking him, and Kael bit back a laugh as their hands warred for space, touching each other, needing each other. [Inside, now.]

[Okay.] Kael pushed inside him, and Kylian hissed softly. Kael could feel the lingering slickness from Kylian’s time with Rommath, and Kael knew exactly why Kylian had been in such a hurry. For the next few moments, they simply moved together, hands never idle, constantly touching, seeking,  _ reminding  _ themselves of one another.

They wore their failures on their skin, their successes, their losses, their triumphs.

_ Forgive me,  _ was written over Kylian.  _ I was an idiot and an asshole. _

_ Want me,  _ whispered over Kael’s.  _ Tell me I wasn’t a mistake, a stroke of bad luck in an otherwise good life. _

By the time release came, among shaking, tangled limbs and desperate kisses, Rommath was done in the bathroom, and Kael could see him looking annoyed, hands propped on hips only barely covered by a towel.

“I thought we agreed we wouldn’t be having sex all morning?” he demanded. Kylian and Kael exchanged a long look, then as one, grabbed for their friend and pulled him into bed, discarding his towel in the same movement.

~ * ~

It was late morning by the time they gathered for breakfast in the other room. Pathaleon had Voren’thal sitting on his lap, stroking and touching the Seer’s fingers with the same care that he used on his fidget cube, while Ghlorine sat nearby, a fond expression touching her lips and the corners of her eyes.

“You were saying,” she prompted, looking over at Kael. “About our stay in Dalaran.”

“We can stay if I become a student,” Kael said, standing while the others sat. Rommath and Kylian were swatting at each other under the table, barely within his line of sight, but he gave them a quelling look anyway. “So I am. I’ve registered for classes formally, and the forms are submitted. I’m starting early next week, once we’re settled.”

“Where are we going to live?” Pathaleon wondered, curious and worried. “These are guest quarters, aren’t they?”

“Student housing,” Kael said. “We’ll be given two adjoining residences on the eastern side of the Citadel with the others. None of the houses are big enough for six, but two houses of three will work out.”

“Which means deciding how we divide up,” Rommath noted, and folded his arms over his chest. “Though some of those arrangements are probably obvious.”

“Yes,” Kael said. “Regardless of where I am, Kylian will be with me, and I assume Ghlorie will be with Voren. Which means you and Patha will have to fight to the death to figure out who is staying where.”

Rommath glanced over at Voren’s serene expression, and Pathaleon’s hands, and shrugged. “I’ll stay with you. It’s not as though we can’t move freely between spaces, after all.”

“It’s true,” Voren said, smiling in their general direction. “We may also find different arrangements on our own in time, as well. You said  _ you  _ have to be a student. What of the rest of us?”

“Antonidas’ condition only applies to me, but the education system here is… extensive. I suppose it comes from catering to people from so many different places.”  Kael shrugged, and Pathaleon shrugged behind Voren, as translation. “I’m absolutely certain that if you want to learn something here, you can.”

Rommath opened his mouth, and Kylian, smiling, kicked him.

“They’re expecting us just after noon. We should be packed up and ready to go by then.” Kael took a deep breath. “If there are any last minute changes of heart, now is the time to mention it, since… since we’re going to be living here for at least a year, probably quite a bit longer.”

“Ghlor said it before,” Kylian said. “We’re here because we’ll follow you where you need to be. We believe in you. Don’t be so hard on yourself, okay?”

Kael flashed him a smile. “Okay. So, I guess we get moving.”

“We’re going to need to shop,” Pathaleon murmured into Voren’s back. “New houses don’t have stuff, do they?”

Kael blinked slowly. Every estate he'd stayed in had been furnished by other people. Guest quarters had servants that he could call on to ask for food, hotel suites came with beds, couches, and all the comforts of home. That he had figured out how to order room service was an accomplishment.

“If the housing is meant for students, surely there will be the basics,” Ghlorine said uneasily. “Beds, tables, chairs, coldbox, couches.”

“Someone will help us,” Voren said with certainty born of clairvoyance. “We won’t be left standing in an empty room, lost and confused.”

“If we did, you wouldn’t see it coming,” Rommath noted, and Voren laughed softly.

“We’re all adults,” Kael reminded them. “We’re completely capable of caring for ourselves. Let’s just… ready ourselves and go take a look at our new quarters. After noon.”

“After noon,” Rommath agreed, and one by one, they stood, moving off to gather their own things.

Kael took a deep breath and stood to leave when he felt Voren’s hand on his. Immediately, he brought Voren’s hand to his lips, kissing his palm. “Yes?”

“I had a dream last night,” Voren began, “about you.”

Kael could practically hear  _ was it a sexy dream?  _ from Kylian’s mind, but didn’t supply it. Voren raised an eyebrow anyway. “Please, tell me.”

“I Saw…” Voren’s voice faltered as he remembered. “I saw fire and ice. I saw light and shadow. I saw forces beyond our control, beyond our reckoning or comprehension. They circled you, all of those forces, and descended. I saw…” He fell silent.

Kael put a hand on Voren’s elbow, watching him. “Did you have another seizure?”

“No.” Voren shook his head slightly. “I asked Patha in the morning, he said I slept peacefully.” He sighed. “There’s something else I wanted to talk about.”

“Of course, go ahead,” Kael said, even as he turned the vision over in his mind. “What else?”

“I think Ghlor needs a girlfriend,” Voren said, and Kael made a soft, choked noise at the abrupt topic change. “She always  _ says  _ she’s alright, but there’s only so much I or even Kylian can do for her. Not to say that you aren’t--”

“Our marriage is about status and favour, not love, though I do love her.” Kael guided Voren into his arms, hugging him, nuzzling at his ear. “I know she’d be happier with someone else. Keeping up appearances is stupid.”

“It  _ is  _ stupid, especially when no one can see them,” Voren agreed. “So we should find her a girlfriend.”

“I can’t exactly conjure one up,” Kael said, and stroked his hair. “But… I’ll try, alright?”

“Mm,” Voren said, nosing at his chest. “I knew you would.”

Kael’s lips quirked in a smile, and let his gaze drift past Voren’thal to Ghlorine, sorting through her robes, and teasing Pathaleon for folding things. “Because you’re psychic?”

“Yes,” Voren said, “and also because you’re Kael’thas Sunstrider. You’ll take care of us no matter what.”

~ * ~

The houses seemed dismayingly small when the older human woman -- her name was Anne -- who had been assigned to their housing needs showed them.

“Student housing is by necessity small,” Anne said. “It’s not meant to be a permanent residence. We move people in and out of these places every five to seven years, and into Greater Dalaran or one of the outskirts if they intend to settle here permanently. We renovate them and then have them occupied again within a few months. You’re quite lucky, these ones are freshly done up. All the modern conveniences, with a little shopping.”

“How  _ much  _ shopping?” Kael asked, peering up at the -- there was no better term for it -- cottage. “Should we have bought furniture first?”

“The stove, cold boxes, and plumbing are all included,” Anne said, frowning slightly, her sandy-brown hair glinting in the Spring sunlight. “But you’ll need to  _ see  _ the rooms before you buy anything, take measurements, assess your needs versus the space you have to work with.”

Kael winced, and supposed it was just lucky that the woman hadn’t vocalized the ‘you idiot’ that was implied with her words. “Of course, thank you. We’d like to see inside.”

She nodded, and fished out a rune from her sleeve, waving it over the front door. The matching rune on the door flashed once, and Anne tucked it away, opening the door to let the elves could troop inside. “You’ll each be issued a key, which is tied to the house wards and the security system. There aren’t, or shouldn’t, be too many issues with crime, but hapless individuals wandering into the wrong house by mistake is still a concern. For your own security, keep your key safe and don’t give out copies to people you don’t know well.”

“I understand,” Kael said, nodding.  _ I can’t imagine who would have copies of my key that I didn’t know very well. The others in the second house, obviously, but I don’t  _ know  _ anyone else. _

Aside from his friends, Kael was alone in Dalaran, which was at least something of the point. There were elves here -- Kelnar came to mind immediately, patient as they went over the course book -- but no one that would cause Kael to flinch when they smiled at him like predators scenting weakness.

Once they were inside, Anne followed them in and closed the door behind her. Kael looked around, and it was dismaying to see how very empty the house was, though the wards within it were quite strong. “So, this is the front room. You’ll be able to store cloaks and footwear at the entrance, but this is the primary living space. Right now, the floors have been redone, and the walls have been painted and reinforced. You’ll be able to hang decorations and place furniture as you like. Usually speaking, students tend to use bookshelves as dividers to create smaller spaces, though we discourage them from putting up actual walls. You might also like to visit the market to purchase paper dividers, they’re very popular in some cities.”

“We use them in Quel’thalas,” Rommath cut in. “They’re elven.”

“Oh, are they?” Anne asked, innocently. “That’s interesting.”

Rommath scowled, and from the grin on Kylian’s face, Kael realized the human woman was teasing or baiting, depending on how you approached it.

“We’ll certainly visit the market,” Kael cut in. “Though I have to ask, how are conventional students expected to afford to furnish a house?”

“By the time they leave the dormitory, they have accumulated a significant stipend,” Anne said. “While they have access to it at all times during their training, most learn to save it to spend on this phase of their education, and later, books. There are other ways to earn more money, such as doing chores for instructors or other staff. There is no rent cost here, though you can't live in student housing in perpetuity. We invest a great deal in our students.”

“What is it that you get in return?” Voren’thal asked, turning his head this way and that, catching the echoes of their voices in the empty house. “For your investment.”

“A generation of well-trained mages of varying degrees of skill,” Anne said. “I myself am only a very minor talent, but I used my other aptitudes to become a full-time housing agent. Once a mage has employment within Dalaran, they are required to repay their costs for schooling and housing, though usually not the stipend. This is done slowly, over time, and that money returns to the next generation, and the next. Should their early employment provide a low income, they don’t have their wages garnished, because that would push them below the required standard of living. There are poor people in this world, but they do not live here. The Kirin Tor won’t allow it. Nothing turns a good mage bad like desperation.”

“It does happen, though,” Voren’thal said, his voice soft, though it echoed. “Those with minor talents seek power, those with vast gifts abuse those they see as lesser, someone always thirsts for more than they need or deserve.”

“That isn’t my place to speak about,” Anne said, pressing her lips together. ‘Those are matters for the Kirin Tor and the Six, but what I  _ can  _ say is that the possibility that a  _ small  _ number of mages go bad is not enough to throw out a system meant to protect and support the  _ majority  _ of mages who are perfectly amenable to the systems put into place.”

“It’s a good system,” Ghlorine said, doing her best to sound cheerful to break the tension. “Very efficient, I think. So, this is the main living area? What about the other areas?”

Anne nodded slowly, and gestured. “This way is the kitchen. This room is more furnished out of necessity.” She led them into an adjoining room, and Kael could see what she meant: there was a modest-sized cold box sitting against one wall, and a stove in the opposing corner, with a long countertop running between. Above the counters were cupboards, a dozen in all. “All of the plumbing must be inspected and working before we allow the houses to be occupied, so you’ll have water immediately.” She went to the sink, which was on the far end of the countertop, and demonstrated, turning each knob. “Hot and cold water both function, and the enchantments for heating it are moderately efficient. You will need to employ a mage -- or alter the enchantments yourselves -- to make them high efficiency.”

“We’ll see what we can manage,” Kael said with a smile. “Do you not allow students to buy appliances?”

“Some small ones, yes, but not large ones. They can strain even generous stipend budgets, and we don’t allow inferior products in our student housing. They can cause disasters. Fires, flooding, flash-freezes. Better to provide them ourselves. They’re not brand new, but they’ll last you quite some time.” Anne walked to the cold box and rapped on it with one hand. In response, it gurgled. “It’s producing ice, don’t worry.”

Kael raised an eyebrow. “That’s… very impressive, actually. I’ve never seen a cold box do that before.”

“We work closely with the dwarves and the gnomes, and have mage graduates among both races,” Anne said. “Though more rarely than humans or even elves. Many gnome mages like to combine technology and magic, as you may be aware, and in a practical sense, that means more efficient cold boxes, though they rely very heavily on magic. Unfortunately, a model like this would simply fail in Lordaeron or even Stormwind without the constant presence of magic to keep it running. This is why cold boxes in more distant places tend to simply be cleaner, more efficient versions of the traditional use of basements as cool, dark places to store food.”

“Can I see?” Pathaleon asked, eyeing the cold box with plain interest. “Can I take a look at the mechanisms inside?”

“We would ask that you do not disassemble the student appliances,” Anne said, amused. “However, you could always speak to one of the engineers. Archmage Sweetberry, though busy, is always enthusiastic about inducting new arcanoengineers to the world.”

Pathaleon nodded. “I’ll have to speak to her then.”

“The stove is similarly efficient,” Anne said, moving across the room. “It has functional heating coils at the top, like the fires one can hang a traditional kettle over, and a controlled fire inside.” She opened a door, demonstrating. “You’ll be able to cook as you like, but try not to mix up the electric appliances with the traditional ones. That’s also how fires start.”

“Electric appliances?” Ghlorine asked, cocking her head to the side a little. “What kinds of electric appliances?”

“Kettles, most commonly,” Anne said. “You can add boiling water to powder mixes and tea, and many mages tend to live on soup or noodles, or some combination. But there are also mixers and blenders, the difference between them being what you want done with your food. A mixer combines ingredients together, more or less gently, and blenders turn things into liquid or fine powder in short order.”

“...and they require less effort than, say, trying to do it by hand?” Rommath asked, trying to sound nonchalant about it, and failing.

“Much less,” Anne assured him. “And they work very nicely on most kinds of peeled fruit.”

Rommath nodded with understanding. “And they’re… affordable? How do they work?”

“How do they-- ah yes, outlets.” Anne put her hand on one wall, and seemed to pick at it. Immediately, a panel popped out, displaying a pair of round holes. “This is an electrical outlet,” she explained. “Electric appliances come with cords, so you can place them on a counter and plug them in. That connects to Dalaran’s power grid, which is operated by drawing power from latent ley energy in this area. It’s altered and moderated by the sorcerous arrays that were built by the first arcanoengineers and are maintained to this day. They provide heat, cooling, and power to every home and business in Dalaran, though their range is limited outside the city.”

“Imagine what we could do if we could spread this level of technology across the whole of Azeroth,” Pathaleon breathed. “If we weren’t anchored by magic and inefficiency over vast distances. Think about what we could do.”

“It would certainly be something,” Anne said lightly. “Would you like to see the other rooms?”

“Please,” Kael said, even as he wondered.  _ No weather control, but the sheer amount of utility that exists in Dalaran is incredible. If all humans lived like this, instead of people in remote places subsisting like, well, peasants, it would change the entire shape of the human kingdoms. What would they even do with all of that free time? _

In Quel’thalas, only a fraction of the population ever did physical labour, and most of those that did fell into one of two categories, the crafters or the warriors. The former were artists, doing careful work with whatever materials were associated with their personal skill level -- anything from custom furniture to clothing design, architecture to cuisine -- while the latter underwent intense training for decades to hone their skills at archery, swordplay, and seafaring. Elven rangers were known for their skill with a bow or a blade, and paladins and spellbreakers, like those who were based in Quel’Danas, were superlative warriors, but only after years of hard work.

Most people, primarily the minor and major nobility, had ample leisure time to engage in politics, social machination, and truly awe-inspiring amounts of sex.

The house had only one modest bathroom, shared between the two bedrooms. There were no other rooms, and that, Kael realized, was alarming.

“Where will we keep all our things?” he asked. “We brought quite a bit with us, and if we’re expected to shop for  _ more…” _

“Closets and storage devices are always available,” Anne said, standing by one of the large windows. “You’ll also have to make good decisions about the things that you own, though often student residences get quite cramped despite the best of intentions. If a student is wealthy enough, or… personally engaged enough with their roommate, one bedroom can be converted into a study. Otherwise, you’ll make room inside your own room.”

Kylian and Kael exchanged a long look, and glanced at Rommath. Of their four other friends, Rommath was the hardest to get along with, and the most likely to want at least  _ some  _ privacy. Even if they found themselves in his bed, or he in theirs, they would need space.

_ So much for storage space,  _ Kael sighed. “No, I think we’ll need both bedrooms, but thank you.”

“While our student housing does not have a basement, other residences in Dalaran do,” Anne said. “Some people use them as extra storage space, though most prefer to use them as a personal laboratory. The Kirin Tor officially warns against it and encourages people to use the public laboratory space provided by the Violet Citadel, but…” She shrugged. “Mages will do as mages do.”

Kael nodded slowly. “I understand. I’ll worry about that later, I think. For now… forgive me, how should we go about obtaining new furniture for our houses? We’ll need help… transporting it, of course.”

Anne raised an eyebrow, but smiled, and nodded to him. “There are a number of vendors who sell student-grade housing items, and they’re well familiar with the procedure for delivering what you need. You can go to the front desk at the Citadel if you need directions. Or… do you have an orientation counselor? They will have advice to offer you as well.”

“I…” Kael thought of Kelnar again. “I do. I’ll speak to her about this. I’m certain she can assist us.”

“Excellent,” Anne said cheerfully. “In that case, once I finish the other house tour, we can get the paperwork signed and confirm that you’ll be moving in this week.”

_ We’re doing this,  _ Kael thought as Anne led them out of the house, locked it, and directed Ghlorine, Voren’thal, and Pathaleon to their house.  _ We’re making this scheme of mine transpire. _

~ * ~

Kelnar inhaled sharply. “You want me to  _ what?” _

“Please,” Kael said. “I realize this is extremely sudden, and that we don’t know each other well, but… we’d pay you. Very well.”

“You cannot  _ afford  _ me,” Kelnar said, crossing her arms over her chest. Kael heard Jaina, who was sitting in the other room, snigger.

“Technically, considering we have the financial resources of the Sunstrider dynasty at our disposal, as well as Quel’thalas’, we totally can,” Kylian pointed out, cheerfully. “Look, we’re incompetent. All of us. None of us know a fucking thing about furnishing a house. We could fill our house with stupid knicknacks and then Kael will fail his classes because he can’t sleep at night for all the tacky statues of frogs having sex we’ll have stacked everywhere. We came to you for help because we know… maybe five people in this city, and you’re the only one not really obligated to talk to us.”

“Aside from the Archmages,” Kelnar muttered, drumming her fingers against one arm. “I am not a babysitter. I am not a personal assistant to be at your beck and call, either. I am the senior educator for first year students and an orientation counselor. You can’t rely on me constantly to hold you by the hand.”

“We won’t, I promise,” Kael said. “Your job is very important, and once we’re settled, we’ll be able to adapt more readily than we will if we’re staring forlornly at our empty houses.”

“Kelnar, they can’t  _ help  _ it if they’re dumb,” Jaina said, swinging her legs. “People come here to learn, right? So they’re going to  _ have  _ to learn how to be less dumb.”

Kylian nodded amiably, even as Rommath glared at the human girl, as though he wanted to light her on fire. Catching his look, Jaina raised her hand, middle finger extended. Kael bit the inside of his cheek to avoid laughing.

“See, Jaina gets us,” Kylian said. “We’re extremely stupid. We’re all highly educated, well-trained idiots. We’re being outsmarted by a baby.”

“I’m not a  _ baby,”  _ Jaina said. “I’m  _ eleven.  _ And a  _ half.” _

Kelnar made a noise, though she was too elegant and elven to snort the way a human might if they were greatly amused. Kael hoped that was a good sign. “You think we should help them, Sunfish?”

“Mmhmm,” Jaina affirmed. “Otherwise they’re gonna get into trouble.”

“Please,” Kael added, and his friends echoed the sentiment, even Voren’thal, who was standing in Kelnar’s kitchen, listening to the way the sounds of people speaking bounced off of the objects on the countertops and pressed against the walls, and even Rommath, who spoke the word through gritted teeth.

“Very well,” Kelnar said. “Jaina, get your coat. This will be educational for you too, when you have a house of your own.”

“Okay,” the human girl said, and hopped down, going to her room to get her coat.

“Good girl,” Kelnar called, and then lowered her voice. “I’ll point you towards where you obtain the wine rack as I explained before, but I won’t be able to help you buy it. Every elven member of a household has to independently confirm their safe handling of arcwine. You should be able to handle that easily enough.”

Kael nodded. “We will, that much should be simple enough. We really are very grateful for your time.”

“With my luck, you’d find yourselves lost in the lake or living in the park, and it would look bad on my record,” Kelnar said, shaking her head a little.

It only took a moment for Jaina to return, though she peered into the kitchen. “Hey, Voren? What are you doing in there?”

“I’m blind,” Voren’thal explained. “I’m getting used to how these rooms might sound for when I need to get around.”

“Don’t you have a seeing-eye parrot?” Jaina asked, curiously. “Or a cane?”

“I have a cane, but there are senses you develop when you don’t have eyesight to rely on,” Voren said. “A sense of where things are, even if you can’t see them. The presence of people. You can use magic to help you, but the best way to learn is through experiencing it.”

“Huh, okay,” Jaina said. “So, is this what you do all the time?”

“No,” he said. “I do many things, including my hobbies. I enjoy threadcrafts of various kinds.” Voren’thal gestured, and Ghlorine went to take his arm, pressing his cane into his free hand.

“Really?” Jaina asked, disbelieving as Kelnar shooed them out of the house. “What kind of threadcraft?”

“It’s a mystery,” Voren’thal said, grinning. “So I’m knit going to tell you.”

Kelnar groaned softly, and Jaina laughed.

~ * ~

By the time Kael flopped into bed, his mind felt numb. Furniture shopping, especially with a limited amount of time to get it done, was exhausting and stressful. There were a lot of things to consider, and Kelnar had been remarkably patient throughout, despite her initial reluctance.

_ Some people just have an incredible gift for teaching idiots,  _ Kael thought wearily.  _ May Belore light their way eternally. _

“Kael, at least try to get undressed,” Ghlorine said softly, closing the door behind her. “You’ll feel much better in a sleeping robe, or at least naked.”

_ I think she needs a girlfriend,  _ echoed Voren’thal, in Kael’s memory, and he forced himself to sit up. “You’re right, of course. I’m just so…”

“Tired,” she supplied, and moved around the room, dimming the lights before taking off her own robes, draping them on the other bed. “It was exhausting, I can’t believe it’s all so complicated.”

“And students do this,” Kael agreed, tugging the sash from his robes. He thought to toss it on the floor, but watching Ghlorine’s neat, ordered movements, guilt pricked at him until he forced himself to stand and walk to the other bed, laying down his clothes on the rumpled sheets. “Practically human children.”

“Young human adults,” Ghlorine corrected. “Not children, but not properly oriented adults either. Kelnar explained it to us.”

“She did,” Kael agreed, and hesitated. “Do you want me to brush your hair before bed?”

“I’d like that,” Ghlorine agreed. “Let’s sit down.”

“I’ll meet you there,” Kael said, and went to the bathroom, retrieving a brush --  _ whose is this? Mine? Kylian’s? I can’t even tell half the time --  _ before coming back to the bed where Ghlorine was sitting. He sat behind her, and touched her back lightly. She smiled at him, nodded once, and then looked ahead again.

Kael raised the brush, drawing it carefully through her hair. Her hair was back length and curling, not quite the tight curls he’d seen on some darker-skinned elves, but not the loose, artful wave that others had. He worked in silence for a few minutes until the brush was moving smoothly, and hesitantly, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder.

“Kael,” she murmured softly, and held out her hand. He dropped the brush on the floor and reached to take it. Ghlorine threaded her fingers into his, squeezing. “We could practice, tonight.”

He smiled a little. His engagement to Ghlorine had been arranged when they were children, practically infants. As they’d grown, and they’d become friends, they’d propose that they practice for their eventual marriage. There had been countless private dinners, dates, events they’d attended together, and sometimes, they practiced making love for the day Kael would need an heir.

_ She definitely needs a girlfriend,  _ Kael thought, and tugged Ghlorine into his lap. She turned her head and he kissed her, slow and sweet, as reverent and decorous as she deserved.  _ I’m going to find her one. It’s nothing less than she deserves for being so very good about all of this. _


	8. Late Spring, Y14

Days passed into weeks, until a whole month had gone by, and then another, until it was Late Spring. Now that he had begun his schooling, Kael’s days were set. His schedule consisted of a dozen classes, mostly introductory, rotated through in a set pattern. Remembering what Kelnar had said about auguries, he wondered if the rotation actually mattered, or if it was habit driven to the point of superstition.

For the most part, he found the classes boring. He already knew how to be a mage -- he was uniquely gifted even among elves, thanks to Al’ar -- and he could see and feel what the purpose of this line of instruction for  _ humans,  _ but not for elves.

There were simple classes, for language, for history, for reading, writing, and numeracy. These were continuations of the basic lessons taught in many human schools until students were fifteen or sixteen. Then they could choose to continue learning, take apprenticeships, return to their homes to assist their parents, or indeed, come to places like Dalaran for specialized scholarship.

Then, there were introductions to each of the spheres of magic. While people tended to think of magic as falling roughly into one of three categories, named for the three basic elemental alignments of magic, there were in fact nine different spheres. The supposed tenth, necromancy, was touched on only briefly, just enough so that students could learn how to identify and combat it.

Elven magical training worked differently, more a series of lessons, anecdotes, and rituals passed down from Adaraxiel the First, tweaked and altered by each generation until the modern day, though some few had never been improved on. The fact that there were any seventeen thousand year old unmodified spells at all was incredible, and there was a reason that Kylian’s ancestor was still famous.

Well, two reasons, but the other was only spoken of in private, open-minded company.

While Kael struggled to find the work at all interesting, Jaina had difficulties for different reasons. She was young for a human, too young to be here, by all rights, but the strength of her power dictated that she needed to be taught  _ now,  _ amongst her peers -- such as they were -- rather than kept hidden away from the world, like a princess in a tower.

Kael did what he could to help, and this forced him to pay attention to the  _ human  _ method of teaching magic, to their spheres and their diagrams, rather than letting his mind wander where it would. Jaina would not need to know all thirty-eight cantos of the  _ Song of Ebullient Flame,  _ no matter how helpful it was to murmur the lines while creating infernos, but she  _ would  _ need to know how many circles was in the Invocation of Flame.

Not that Jaina seemed to do particularly well with fire spells, even at this early stage.

In turn, Kael was learning what human mages were taught of their own history -- the extent of their involvement in the Troll Wars, as an example -- and wondered if the handful of other elves in their classes ever felt as he did, like a strange intruder in the learning halls of humans.

_ I wonder what the Isolationists would think if they were constantly reminded of how important the humans are to us,  _ Kael thought idly, watching Jaina work, pen scratching against the page, brow furrowed. The human girl’s writing was terrible, and he tried not to wince.  _ She’s only a child. _

“What?” Jaina asked, not looking up at him. Her blonde hair was tied back tightly, though it always seemed to wisp away from her face, as though irritated to be bound. “You’ve been starin’ at me for ages.”

_ Have I..?  _ Kael wondered briefly, before shaking his head. “I was just admiring your handwriting.”

Jaina blinked, peering down at her scrawl, and scowled. “Don’t be a jerk.”

“...I wasn’t trying to be a jerk, but I apologize,” Kael said. “It’s a skill you learn by practicing. You’re not… on the stormy seas. Your desk won’t rock unexpectedly. You can take your time.”

Jaina stuck out her lower lip in annoyance. “S’true. Not enough boats here. Won’t let me go swimming again, neither.”

Despite assurances that the water was ‘just fine’, and she hadn’t been hurt by her earlier dip at all, the Dalarani authority had expressly forbid swimming in the lake, by order of the Kirin Tor. Jaina had sulked for a week, and failed two assignments.

“I’m sure you’ll be allowed once the weather warms up,” Kael assured her. “Do you want me to show you how to improve your writing?”

“Only if you stop  _ sighing  _ at me all the time.” Jaina sat up a little, and thrust the pen towards him. He took it, checked the nip, and dipped it in her inkwell.

“Calligraphy won’t do you much good, not when you’re taking notes,” Kael began, and carefully copied out her last sentence, taking up half again as much space doing it, forming each letter with plain but elegant writing. “But if you can’t read your writing, you can’t learn from it either.”

Jaina made a face at the difference between the two lines. “I’m not learning much from it anyway.”

“Why do you say that?” Kael asked, and handed her back the pen. “Copy the line down, just under mine. We’ll redo your assignment on a different piece of paper anyway, so don’t worry about the mess.”

Jaina sighed, and started to copy. “It’s hard. It’s hard and half of it doesn’t make much sense. I don’t know why I spend all my time learning about circles. I want to  _ sail  _ and  _ fight demons  _ and--” She stopped, and focused on the letters.

_ And what, I wonder?  _ Kael thought. “It’s all leading to that. You… you like to swim, don’t you? How did you learn?”

“Da took me out to the ocean and threw me as far as he could,” Jaina said, matter-of-factly. “So if I could get back to him, I could swim. If I couldn’t, he left me for the mermaids and sharks.”

Kael’s mouth dropped open, horrified. “He… he didn’t… he couldn’t have--”

“O’ course not,” Jaina snorted at him, and the pen skidded sideways. “Fuck!”

“Language,” Kael said absently, and she scowled at him. “So, how did you  _ actually  _ learn how to swim?”

Jaina considered. “I was just little then. Da had me in the water all the time. In the bath, out in the water. Gettin’ me wet and used to it. He’d hold me, Mother said, and I’d kick my legs and splash. He’d wade out until the water was deep enough for me to swim a bit and let me go. If I couldn’t do it, he’d catch me and bring me up again, ‘til I was doing it on my own.”

“How long did it take you to learn how to swim on your own?” Kael asked, curious. His own experience with swimming was limited -- he could do it, but it was confined to splashing on beaches, sunbathing, and the much-regretted ‘sex in the water during which I got sand everywhere’ incident.

“‘Til I was four or five,” Jaina said. “An’ six, when I met Bluey.” She finished the line, and showed it to Kael. “There.”

“Not bad,” Kael said. “But practice the line a few more times, so it matches. How did you meet Bluey?”

“I was swimmin’ at the docks,” Jaina said, scowling at the page, even as she began to work again. “I went out too far, Da thinks. Into the deeper part of the ocean I’m not supposed to go. I was tired, an’ I couldn’t… couldn’t keep my head up.”

“Was no one watching you?” Kael asked, alarmed. “To bring you back?”

“Bluey was,” Jaina said, insistent. “‘Cause when I started to slip under, I called for help and he answered. He caught me and helped me breathe again, an’ then we got back to the docks. Da and Mother were worried, but I wasn’t. Not with Bluey.”

Kael had had a number of encounters with the water elemental since his acquaintance with Jaina, and the water elemental was, bluntly, untamed, immature, and rude, not wholly unlike Jaina herself. He bore no constraints the way summoned elementals did and was small, about Jaina’s size or a little larger, and the dark blue of the deep ocean.

Al’ar’s contract had consisted of dozens and dozens of lines, a full sestina, with all of the intricacies that came with it, and Jaina’s contract with her water elemental seemed to be, at its full extent, a cry for help.

“Remarkable,” Kael murmured aloud. “Incredible.”

“Ain’t so ‘credible now,” Jaina muttered, annoyed. “Copyin’ lines and bein’ stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” Kael said immediately. “You’re learning so much, so early. It’s natural to make mistakes.”

“Why?” Jaina demanded, and Kael looked up at her. Around them, the study hall was full of students working diligently, with a handful quietly and subtly reading novels half-hidden by their desks while the teachers roamed, looking for slackers. “Why do I have to make mistakes?”

“Nobody’s perfect,” Kael said, reaching out to touch her hand lightly where she held the pen in a white-knuckled grip. “No one ever gets things right on the very first try, and you  _ especially  _ are learning a lot of things early. Of course you’ll make mistakes. Of course you’ll have trouble with the concepts. No one really expects you to be perfect.”

“You don’t  _ know  _ that,” Jaina said, throwing the pen down and sighing. “I’m supposed t’ be  _ learning  _ all of this. I  _ have  _ to.”

“...because you’re a sorceress in training,” Kael finished. “You’re building up a foundation, like a… a house. It needs to be steady. You have a lot of time to learn.”

Jaina went silent, staring at the page. She hunched her shoulders a little, and Kael wondered at her reaction.

_ There’s still so much about her that I don’t know,  _ Kael thought.  _ I know that she was brought here very young, that she has an elemental familiar, that she was raised amid sailors and merchants, and that she’s as stubborn as a hawkstrider. I know she has few enough friends to make  _ me  _ look well-balanced and sociable. I wish I knew more, but perhaps now isn’t the time. _

After a moment, Jaina pulled the book towards her and began to write again, half-sloppily, under the practiced lines.

“That’s enough writing practice for now,” Kael said, unnecessarily. “We’ll work at it later.”

Silently, Jaina kept writing, and he sighed.

~ * ~

_ If Kael doesn’t stop sighing every three seconds, I’m going to kick him right in the ass,  _ Jaina thought as she watched Kelnar. She liked her guardian’s classes best, mostly because she could pretend just for a little while that she was at home, and Kelnar was telling her, Tandred, and Finn stories.

They weren’t terribly interesting stories, in this case, but it helped ease the tight feeling in her chest every time she came to class and saw people staring at her, staring at her pale purple student robes, too big on her since she fit awkwardly between human teenager and adult gnome, and the way she clutched at the too-big books she carried with her from class to class.

Kelnar taught three of her dozen classes: the Thalassian primer, for those who didn’t speak the language of elves, Introduction to Arcane Theory, which taught the principles behind spells, and Ethics, which was required every year, and taught until people could recite it in their sleep, or so she’d overheard some of the older students say.

_ Ethics,  _ Kelnar had said, and kept saying,  _ is the process of understanding that while you  _ have  _ power, you can’t just use it as you please. You need to take responsibility for it, the way you do a weapon. _

Jaina had been taught  _ ethics  _ by her father and brother when it came to her gun, but it seemed a lot more complicated when Kelnar taught it. Magic could do a lot more harm than a firearm, or even a sword, in the hands of the careless or the cruel, and the lectures about the care and consideration owed to non-mages felt as though she were being judged, and found guilty.

_ I hurt someone with my magic,  _ Jaina thought miserably, between Kael’s sighs.  _ I hurt Jack and, even though he was terrible, it’s my fault. I did wrong things. So I have to sit here and listen to it, over and over, until I understand. _

Rebellion coiled in every part of Jaina, even though she knew she had to sit and stay quiet, in case someone took exception to an  _ unethical  _ person sharing classes with them. She wanted to shout, to insist that Jack had been  _ hurting  _ her, so it was okay to defend herself. Jack hadn’t known any magic, though. He hadn’t hit her, just said cruel things. Just  _ pretended  _ to be her friend so he could get things from her.

The part of her heart that ached until she cried wasn’t actually wounded, even if it felt like it.

Instead, she hunched up, took her lecture, and waited for it to be over, again. She glanced over at Kael. Kael, she knew, was bored. He was bored with most of the classes they took, finishing his assigned work swiftly and then going back to staring at things, as though he could read their secrets.

Maybe he could, too, though he wasn’t a Seer like Voren’thal, or an engineer, like Pathaleon.

Jaina spent time with Kael’s friends, on and off, though they weren’t  _ her  _ friends. None of them were. Rommath scowled at her, and that was the easiest to deal with. Simple to flip him off and go back to what she was doing. Voren’thal seemed guileless and kind, and Pathaleon tended to avoid looking at her when speaking to her. Jaina was fairly certain that he hated her, considering the abrupt nature of their conversations, or the way he would ignore her presence to speak to Kael or one of his other friends.

Ghlorine seemed nice, but vague, and Jaina thought she was only trying to be polite, especially when she used big words. Kylian, of all of them, seemed to be the most friendly, but he had razors behind his smiles, sometimes, and liked to pick fights. He spent the most time with Kael, and Jaina thought, with great confidence, that they were having sex, a lot.

Of  _ course  _ she knew what sex was, where else did people think babies came from? That they were brought in by the tides?  _ Please. _

Kylian was clingy, too, and Jaina would watch him watch Kael, as though Kael were going to disappear at any moment, which was a lot less cute and a lot more awkward than it sounded. The only time Kylian wasn’t around was when Kael was in class, because the teachers wouldn’t let him loiter around the younger students.

_ Maybe that’s why Kael sighs so much,  _ Jaina thought.  _ Maybe he likes it a lot and misses it when Kylian’s not there. _

In any case, Ethics In Magic was the last class they had today, and Jaina endured it for another ten minutes before Kelnar concluded her lecture and allowed them to pack up.

Jaina picked up her things quickly, making sure her pen was wiped clean and wrapped in a length of waxed cloth, as well as capping her inkwell and making sure it was secure, then putting both in a little satchel that Kelnar had purchased for her as a gift for school. It was precious to Jaina, and meant that her hands were free to carry her books and paper.

Kael, of course, simply enchanted his satchel to float behind him, leading it along like a mother duck and her ducklings.

“Jaina,” he began, and she tensed. “There was something I wanted to ask you.”

“Yeah?” Jaina asked. “What is it?”

“I’ve been hearing about a popular place to visit,” Kael began. “The other students talk about it, a shop. I was wondering if you knew about it, and you could take me there.”

_ Oh,  _ Jaina thought sourly.  _ He needs me to do something for him. Of course. _

Jaina had not minded, early on, when Kael needed help with simple things. He didn’t know any better, and as Kylian had cheerfully admitted, they were all well-educated idiots. It had been fun, at first, to see Kael and his friends, all adults, gawk at furniture and misunderstand how to buy food or practical clothing.

After a while, though, when one of them would ask for little things, Jaina couldn’t help but feel annoyed, and used.

_ They only want me around when I can help them,  _ she thought angrily, and walked silently for a little while, until they reached their lockers. Jaina fussed with her satchel, finding her rune and waving it over the door. It glowed briefly and popped open, and Jaina sorted through her books for a little while, as she thought. “What kind of shop?”

“A sweet shop,” Kael said. “They sell… candy? I think?”

“You’ve never had  _ candy  _ before?” Jaina asked, incredulous. “Not once?”

“No, it wasn’t allowed,” Kael said, and sorted through his own things with practiced ease. “I wouldn’t know where to start. Won’t you help me, please?”

On the one hand, he was asking her to babysit him, again, through a simple task. On the other, Kelnar had given her some of her stipend -- she called it an ‘allowance’ -- to spend on things she liked, and Jaina hadn’t yet.  _ I could get some nice lemon drops, or rock candy, or…  _ Kael was watching her closely. “Okay. We’ll go.”

Kael beamed at her in reply, as though she had agreed to pull his ass out from the ocean, and she couldn’t help but smile back.

~ * ~

The process of finding the shop they wanted could have been as simple as speaking to Dia, the woman who worked at the Violet Citadel’s information desk, but Jaina thought that lacked a sense of adventure in many ways. It spoiled the process of visiting the market.

Back in Kul Tiras, one could navigate the city by following one’s nose. The docks smelled of fish, rope, and tar, all of which cut through the faint hint of salt on the wind during fair days, and rain on the wet ones. The market could be found via the scent of foodstuffs being cooked, fried, or otherwise prepared, and the market in Dalaran was hardly different.

Markets divided themselves into several sections, perhaps part of some kind of obscure law that Jaina didn’t know, or maybe the same kinds of merchants swam together like schools of fish. Either way, to Jaina’s observation, markets tended to have similar layouts.

The most noticeable were the mobile merchants. They pushed around carts heavily laden with goods, often food, but sometimes clothes, or even books, though that was rare in Kul Tiras, owing to the propensity for rain. In Dalaran, where things seemed to be cheerier and drier, even in the Spring months, it was safe to have paper outdoors without it being carefully covered and kept away from the elements.

Kael, following at Jaina’s heels, stared at them, curious and a little confused, and then hurried after her.

_ You need to go to market more often than just when you  _ need  _ to to avoid starving or going naked,  _ Jaina thought, though she couldn’t be too annoyed with him. Not now, at any rate.

The second kind of merchants were the open air vendors. Like the cart merchants, these people stood outdoors in the sun, and had huge containers filled with goods, primarily food. Some of them were farmers, selling their own hard work, or the go-betweens, who paid farmers and then turned around and wanted to be paid in turn for the trouble of making their apples and pears look good. These merchants were loud, trying to be just that much more noisy than their fellows in the hopes of making a sale.

Jaina made a note of where some of them were for later, so she could buy an apple for Kelnar, since she’d come to learn that while  _ some  _ elves were excited by bacon and steaks, most of them preferred a nice, sweet fruit to snack on.

It wasn’t all food, of course. There were all kinds of goods, arranged so that when the wind changed, your silks wouldn’t smell of bread, nor would your books catch spatters of grease. It had been true in Kul Tiras too, and that was how Jaina could find battered fish and hot chips when she was hungry.

A pang of homesickness hit her hard, and she grabbed for Kael’s arm, tugging him with her, away from his curiosity.

“We’re looking for the shops,” Jaina said. “Like where you bought all your little couches.”

“It was only two couches,” Kael murmured. “And a bed-couch for Rommath.”

“Sure,” Jaina said, rolling her eyes. “Still, it’s this way.”

The market district was lined with shops of all kinds. Some sold, again, food, but dried goods in jars, spices and grains, rather than the fresh things found outside to catch the eye or the nose. Some of the shops sold meat, dried or fresh, or you could place an order, if one didn’t like the cuts hanging from windows. Other shops were filled with books, shelves and shelves of titles that Jaina thought sounded interesting, but wouldn’t touch. Some of the books had beautiful covers in colours that were pieces of art in and of themselves.

Jaina longed to dig into them, but didn’t dare. Not yet.

Other shops sold clothes of all kinds, from robes to proper trousers and jackets. Some even sold swimwear, though the beaches were far away, and so many other kinds of things that it made Jaina’s head spin. Still others sold cloth, either more subdued than the materials sold in carts, or far more expensive and thus too valuable to let all and sundry see.

There was furniture and housewares, shoes and boots, toys and games, on and on, each shop with eye-catching signs, meant to attract the attention of potential buyers. Jaina strained as she looked around, and then pointed.

“That one,” she said. “Right there.”

“Sweete’s… Sweets,” Kael repeated. “I suppose that makes sense. We’ve found it, so now I suppose we go in?”

“We didn’t come here to stare,” Jaina said, and hurried across the street, ducking around carts and people. Kael hastened after her, muttering apologies to people who weren’t really listening. Jaina paused at the doorway. “Hurry up.”

“I’m hurrying, I’m hurrying,” Kael murmured. When he got there, Jaina pulled the door open, setting off the bell to jangle and hurried inside. Kael stepped in a moment after, and stopped, in awe.

_ Mm, candy,  _ Jaina thought, inhaling appreciatively. The whole store smelled of sugar and chocolate, and it wasn’t hard to see why: two of the walls were lined with shelves, and each shelf held a dozen huge containers or more of different kinds of candies, from the hard ones that she preferred to the soft, juicy ones that Tandred liked best. They seemed to be arranged like a rainbow, moving from red down to violet on one side of the shop, then on the other side, rather than being arranged by colour, they were arranged by type, the colours all mixed together.

The middle part of the store was occupied by chocolates of various kinds, from little, fruit- or jam-filled ones to solid chocolate, and there were plenty of nuts and fruits covered in chocolate, each looking positively toothsome. Kael drifted from one display to the next, his eyes growing wide as saucers.

He looked, for all the world, like a child in a candy shop, and Jaina found it to be more than a little cute.

_ I guess… he found what he wanted,  _ she thought, and hurt welled up suddenly.  _ I might as well not be here. _

“Welcome!” said the gnome behind the counter, interrupting Jaina’s thoughts. “I’m Beauregard Sweete. How can I help you?”

Jaina hurried over to the counter. “ Hi, I’m Jaina. I’m looking for lemon drops, and Kael here is bad at shopping. He might need a lot more help.”

“Hello,” Kael said, dazed. “I’m her friend who’s bad at shopping. I need quite a bit of help, I’ve never… seen a place quite like this before.”

“No need to worry, I’m here to guide you.” The gnome came out from behind the counter, squeaking and clunking on an impressive rig of metal and moving joints.

_ Jhenna has a set like it,  _ Jaina thought. “Why’re you sitting in something like that? Do you like to be tall too?”

Beauregard laughed. “Well, I do, but that’s not the  _ only  _ reason. When I was a little gnomelet, my legs didn’t work quite right. The healers said my spine was all twisted up. They saved my legs, but they don’t do me much good.” He indicated, and Jaina peered at them. “So I did the only thing that makes sense.”

Kael nodded his understanding. “Which was?”

“I opened my own candy store, of course!” He grinned broadly. “And now I provide sweets for every customer who comes in the door, including you, young man.”

Jaina watched curiously as Kael’s ears reddened while he blushed.  _ Kael’s not little, he’s a grown-up. Mostly. He’s mostly a grown-up. _

“Now, Jaina, you said you wanted lemon drops. They’re right this way.” Beauregard walked towards one of the shelves, squeaking and creaking as he went.

Jaina hurried after him, peering up at the jars. There were several different kinds of lemon candy there, but she recognized one of them, the same kind she always bought when she and Tandred went to the market. “That one, please,” she said, pointing.

“Very good,” the gnome said, and tilted forward on his rig, removing the lid and retrieving the metal scoop inside the jar. She watched him fill a paper bag and fold it over, then replace the scoop and lid before handing her the bag. “All set.”

“Thank you,” Jaina said, and followed him back towards the counter. Beauregard rang her up and she counted out the coin in her purse carefully, before looking over her shoulder. “Kael, were you watching? Did you see how it’s done?”

There was no reply, and she turned as she opened her bag, taking out a single drop to pop into her mouth and savour. Kael was standing in the middle of the displays of chocolates, his eyes still wide with wonder. He moved from one to the next, touching one, then another before drawing back, as though trying to make up his mind.

“Feelin’ a little overwhelmed, are you?” Beauregard said, leaning on the counter a little. “Well, most people start small, of course. What is it you want to try?”

“Everything,” Kael breathed. “Absolutely everything. Do… do you take credit?”

~ * ~

For the next two weeks, Jaina and Kael’s time at school had acquired a third companion. In the vein of wanting to try ‘something of everything’, Kael had made a massive purchase at Sweete’s, floating it along in several large sacks.

To get through it all before it ruined, Kael had eaten quickly, washing it down with arcwine while he worked and studied in his room. He always had something on hand, and it was hard to get through a day without indulging in the silky taste of chocolate.

There was so  _ much  _ of it, and so many flavours! It mixed with milk, with fruit, with nuts. There were even some dishes that came from southern Azeroth that supposedly contained meat dusted with cacao, the origin plant for chocolate, but Kael wasn’t  _ quite  _ desperate enough to try that.

Not yet, at any rate, though he had been assured it was quite tasty.

In many ways, the sweetness felt like it filled a part of him that had been long empty. Sure, his father hated him and thought him a fool and a weakling. Certainly, he was trapped in a destiny he despised. Definitely, he was lonely, despite his friends, because even the love that Kylian had touched on briefly with another was denied to him. He had dragged his friends to Dalaran where they sat around, putting their own hopes and dreams on hold while he wasted time relearning a skill he had already mastered.

It was all true and worse, but at least now, he had chocolate, and he had Jaina to thank for it.

Thinking of his human friend, Kael smiled, though it made his face hurt. Her writing  _ had  _ improved with practice, though rather than notes, he had her copying from her favourite book instead, so she could relive the passages about Alodi and Aegwynn, Zeelam and Zoratil, and all the other Guardians.

When they’d come to Medivh, and the end of the Guardians, she had been not so much surprised as resigned.

_ It was a nice dream, but it all happened before she was even born,  _ Kael thought, picking through his stash for an almond cluster.  _ There’s plenty of room on Azeroth for other remarkable mages, and she’ll be one of them, if she’d only let herself. _

There was certainly  _ something  _ going on with Jaina’s reluctance to delve deeper into magic, and Kael wasn’t quite sure what it was. Nowadays, his thoughts revolved more around chocolate than studying. He bit down, and made a soft, pleased noise at the taste of it, as well as the firmness of the almonds, salt and sweet together.

_ Not to mention, I do so love the crunch.  _ Kael sighed, and made his way through the rest of it, and then went back for more.

“Hey, Kael,” Kylian said, poking his head inside their room. “Are  you… do you ever stop eating?”

“Have you tried it?” Kael asked, looking up at his best friend. Kylian’s robes were disheveled, sitting ill on his frame, and a faint scent drifted from him, something familiar, like smoke. “Where have you been?”

“I had a date with a dead animal,” Kylian said. “Since you’ve been too busy eating candy to pay much attention. Something’s going on with your face, too.”

“My face?” Kael asked, ignoring the jibe. “What’s wrong with my face?”

Kylian reached out, poking his cheek. Kael flinched. “Your skin is red and bumpy, and from that reaction, tender like a spanked ass. How much of this stuff have you eaten, anyway?”

“Today?” Kael asked, and tried to think. “Or..?”

“The fact that you can’t tell whether I mean ‘in the last day’ or ‘in the last two weeks’ is a problem,” Kylian chided him, and Kael glared. “Okay, seriously, that’s enough. You need to stop.”

“No,” Kael said. “It’s not hurting anything, and it’s not as if  _ you  _ don’t indulge in things too, from time to time.”

“Okay, but I think you’re getting sick.” Kylian put a hand on his shoulder, and made him stand. Kael felt a little dizzy as Kylian maneuvered him into the small bathroom and activated the lights. “Look, Kael. Look at yourself.”

Kael looked. His skin looked sallow, and there were dark circles under his eyes. His cheeks were a dull red, and he reached up to poke one of them, finding it numb and painful in an absent sort of way. There was even the aforementioned sprinkle of spots across both cheeks.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said finally. “I want to eat chocolate and I will.”

“It actually does, since it’s my responsibility to look after you,” Kylian said. “Look, I get indulgence, and I get wallowing, but you’re  _ not well,  _ Kael. You need to stop.”

“No,” Kael said abruptly, shaking himself from Kylian’s grip and pushing past him to return to his stack of chocolate. Kylian hurried after, grabbing for his arm. “Let go of me.”

“Absolutely not,” Kylian said. “This has gone far enough. Kael, I’m taking your chocolate away. We can’t return it, but I can just destroy--”

The rest of Kylian’s statement was lost in a roar that filled Kael’s ears. Need and sick fear welled up inside him, and without thinking, he reacted to the threat in the best way he knew how: magic erupted from his hands, and he hurled Kylian through the house and out the door, sending him ass over tea kettle into the street.

_ What… what have I done?!  _ Horror stole over Kael, and his soul, dark with shame, knew only one way to deal with the terrible thing he’d done. He waved his hand once and the door closed, locking itself.

He turned to his bag of chocolates, snatched it up, and dragged it into the closet of his room, and began to eat anew.


	9. Late Spring, Y14

_ Okay, well, that sucked.  _ Kylian winced as he picked himself up and brushed at his robes. It was late evening in Dalaran, which was fortunate, because it meant there were fewer witnesses to his flight than there might have been in broad daylight.  _ So, Kael has a little problem. _

“Kylian?!” Ghlorine hurried towards him, dressed in a lounging robe, and hurried to grasp his hands. “What happened? Was there an accident?”

“Sort of.” Kylian sighed, and immediately, she drew him into her arms for a hug. “Thanks, cutie. So, you know how Kael’s gone pretty crazy for chocolate?”

“We couldn’t fail to notice,” Rommath said, coming out of the house. He wasn’t dressed at all, instead clutching at the sheet around his waist. “There’s a reason I haven’t been at the house, and it was because between the two of you, I couldn’t stand the  _ smell.” _

“Sure,” Kylian muttered. “That’s what it was.”

“Is Kael sick?” Pathaleon asked, just at Rommath’s elbow, in a similar state of undress. Kylian raised an eyebrow, and he blushed. “Thought there was an emergency.”

“There is,” Kylian said. He took a deep breath. “Kael’s eaten so much chocolate that it’s started to make him sick, and when I suggested he stop, he got violent about it.”

“You really are the worst second in command ever,” Rommath said, pushing past him. “Here, we’ll deal with this right now.”

Rommath grabbed for the door, and waved his hand in front of it. Nothing happened, and Rommath tried the door handle anyway, twisting and turning it. He made a noise of disgust and kicked it.

Kylian stood back, crossing his arms over his chest and smirking. “Now who’s the worst?”

“Give me your damned rune,” Rommath said, and Kylian handed his over. Rommath waved the rune in front of the door once, then again. “Why isn’t it working?”

“...because a powerful sorcerer doesn’t want us in his fucking house?” Kylian suggested. “Also, unless we’re prepared to start some pretty serious shit, the house is warded against most forms of intrusion.”

“...which is great for students, but not so much for emergencies,” Ghlorine said, looking worriedly at the door. “We need to get in there.”

“Actually, you need to get dressed,” Kylian said. “I’ll figure this out. It’s my job, after all.”

“We’re not going to stand around waiting for you to come up with an idea that works,” Rommath said. “Come up with something while we dress.”

“I’ll wake Voren,” Ghlorine said. “Surely he’ll have ideas.”

“Yeah, sure,” Kylian said, and stared at the door while the others trooped into their house.  _ Okay, so, if the people who are meant to live there can’t get in, it’s unlikely that Kael wants us inside, but there has to be a way to get inside a house if a student has an emergency. Even technical adults can still have medical emergencies, or magical ones. _

He paced back and forth, ignoring the handful of passers by that had stopped to stare. There were a few  students moving back and forth between buildings, returning from spending time with friends, or coming back from visiting the theatres. It wasn’t even just students, either, because the teachers--

“That’s it,” Kylian said aloud, snapping his fingers so hard he left sparks. “I know what to do.”

By the time his friends had finished dressing, he was already hurrying down the street towards a solution so simple that he couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it before.

~ * ~

Kylian had been to Kelnar’s house dozens of times, at this point. Age, early bedtimes, and general inappropriateness meant that if Kael wanted to see Jaina, he would meet with her at her guardian’s house, or at school, rather than inviting her back to their house.

Kylian suspected Kelnar was mostly making that up, because she didn’t trust six barely adult elves to not be at the mercy of one human child, but would never admit it.

_ And, I mean, she’s not wrong,  _ Kylian thought, and knocked. When Kelnar answered the door, dressed for bed, she frowned direly at Kylian. “Hi, Kelnar,” he began. “So I need--”

“No,” she said sharply, and made to close the door. Kylian stuck his fingers between the door and frame. “It’s too late for this nonsense.”

“You don’t even know how many layers of nonsense are involved with this,” Kylian said. “Can I talk to you, real quick? Jaina, too, if she’s awake.”

“She isn’t, or shouldn’t be,” Kelnar said, but sighed. “Come in, and be quiet.”

“Yeah, sure,” Kylian said, and waited for her to open the door to let him through. Kelnar sniffed him and frowned.

“Is that bacon?” she asked. “Were you out eating bacon?”

“Did you know humans have a fascinating variety of red meat to be consumed like it’s not a highly restricted form of nourishment?” Kylian asked brightly, and she scowled.

“Yes, I do, actually,” Kelnar said. “Though I’m not totally sure how relevant that is.”

“It isn’t, exactly,” Kylian said. “But it  _ sort of  _ relates to what I’m here for. Can you get into the student housing? In case of an emergency?”

“For  _ emergency  _ purposes, yes,” Kelnar said slowly. “But if you’ve lost your rune…”

“It’s not lost, I know exactly where it is,” Kylian said cheerfully. “It doesn’t help me, though, if Kael freaks out and locks everyone out while he sits there gorging on chocolate like some kind of spider.”

“I-- he-- what?”

“Kael bought chocolate from a sweet shop,” Jaina said, rubbing at her eyes. Kylian looked over at her, and waved a little. She didn’t wave back, and moved to lean against Kelnar. “He’s been eating a lot of it, probably too much.”

“That about covers it,” Kylian said. “He probably goes back daily, since he doesn’t ever seem to run out.”

“Yeah, he figured out how to go on his own.” Jaina’s voice was harsh, and Kelnar put an arm around her. Kylian quietly envied the way she leaned into her guardian and hugged her back, like it was safe. “He doesn’t need  _ me  _ any more.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Kelnar soothed. “Tell her.”

“I’ve felt that way too, sometimes,” Kylian said instead. “That my friends don’t need me, that they don’t care. Usually, it’s because of a little voice, a little demon whispering things to keep me apart from them. Demons suck, Jaina.”

“Know this first, the demon is a liar,” Kelnar said, but Jaina shook her head. “What is it?”

“Kael’s not my friend,” Jaina said, muffled by Kelnar’s shoulder. “No one is.”

“That’s not true,” Kylian said. “Kael loves spending time with you and helping you study. Until all of this happened, I think I’ve never seen him happier. Why don’t you think he’s your friend?”

“He has to teach me everything,” Jaina said, reluctant at first, and then the words began to spill out. “He always  _ sighs  _ in class, and he’s so  _ bored  _ with it all the time. He has to help me catch up because I have all this learning to do before I can stop being in  _ trouble.” _

“You’re not in trouble,” Kelnar said immediately. “Who told you that you were in trouble?”

“Why  _ else  _ would I have to come here instead of staying at home?” Jaina cried. “Why else do I have to listen to you tell me that I’m a bad person for  _ hurting  _ people because I can’t control my magic properly? Why else would Antonidas say I could be a Guardian when the last one was  _ evil?!” _

“I’m going to commit murder,” Kelnar said as Jaina burst into tears, and Kelnar tugged Jaina into her lap, hugging her close. “Absolute atrocity will follow in my wake until all of Dalaran fears my name.”

“Cool,” Kylian said, “but maybe not. Maybe not murder.” He scooted his chair forward. “So, uh, this may or may not help, but Kael just blasted me through a door. I’m mostly unharmed, except for my pride. Did you actually  _ hurt  _ someone, or did you just injure them a little?”

Jaina sniffled. “Um, he fell, on ice. I think he hit his head.”

“Okay, people survive that all the time,” Kylian said, with the wisdom of someone who had never seen ice before. Kelnar glared at him over Jaina’s head, but nodded very slightly. “So, sometimes things happen, when we get angry or sick or out of control. You didn’t know you had magic then, did you?”

“No,” Jaina said. “Not really. I’m weird. I’ve always been weird.”

“Hey, weird is a good thing,” Kylian said. “All my friends are weird. So are yours, because my friends are the same as yours, with some obvious substitutions.”

“...but none of Kael’s friends like me,” Jaina said, and shifted in Kelnar’s lap to look at him. “They don’t act like it.”

“Why do you think that?” Kylian asked, looking her over. In a few ways, she reminded him of Rommath, prickly to the point of belligerence, but he knew  _ why  _ Rommath was the way he was. He didn’t know Jaina nearly as well, a little mystery to be solved, wrapped in tension and fear.

He could sympathize with that, actually, a lot.

“Rommath is rude and a jerk,” Jaina began. “Voren is nice but sun-lost. Pathaleon avoids me and doesn’t want to talk to me at all. Ghlorie uses big words and pretends to be nice, and you…” She met his gaze, defiant. “You’re clingy and like to pick fights.”

Kylian nodded slowly. “Easiest to explain myself first. My job is to look after Kael. It’s been my family’s job to look after his family for as long as we’ve been in Quel’thalas. Longer, by some of the stories. I  _ need  _ to be with him, at least enough to make sure he’s doing well. I haven’t done the best job of that, have I? Not when I was younger, and maybe not so much now, but it’s still my job. I love Kael a lot. He’s my best friend.”

Jaina nodded a little. “That explains one thing, but not the other.”

“Some of it is because it’s funny to see people get mad,” Kylian said, “but other times, it’s part of my job. There are always going to people who say stupid things, and deserve to be called out on them. Kael can’t do that most of the time. He’s going to be the leader of Quel’thalas some day. He has to look diplomatic, reasonable, neutral, even if he does think someone’s being a complete dumbass. So someone has to say those things. That someone is me.”

“You aren’t at court, though,” Kelnar pointed out, stroking Jaina’s hair lightly. “There’s no one here to judge whether or not you’re doing a good job.”

“You know what they say,” Kylian said. “Practice makes perfect. As for the others, Voren is a Seer. He sees a lot of things that we don’t. Maybe he sees something in you, you should ask him some time. Maybe you really will be the Guardian, and protect the world from big jerks.”

Jaina scowled at him. “You’re making fun of me.”

“Maybe a little, but not because I don’t like you.” Kylian smiled. “As for Patha, he’s… some people are born seeing the world differently. Different things bother them, like crowds or loud noises or lights. Sometimes, they get distracted without something to ground them. They have a hard time looking people in the eye, even people they really like. There are a lot of different factors, and not everyone born that way experiences things the same. He likes you a lot, he thinks you’re funny and smart. It’s just, sometimes he doesn’t see anything but what’s in front of him. Does that make sense?”

Jaina nodded, hesitantly. “So he doesn’t hate me?”

“No, not at all,” Kylian promised. “We’ll have to get you two sitting down together, working on something. He’s the best company when he has somewhere else to look, and he loves to talk about his favourite things. If you’re willing to listen, he’ll be happy to tell you.”

“Yeah,” Jaina said, and straightened. “Of course.”

“Good,” Kylian said. “Now, Ghlorie’s simple to explain, because she’s just a huge nerd. She’s a theoretician, which means she loves digging into the  _ stuff  _ behind spells and magic. She also learned Common a bit later than the rest of us, so sometimes she gets words a little mixed up when she’s tired or, uh, otherwise not in full control of her faculties.”

“...like being drunk?” Jaina guessed, and Kylian nodded. “I’ve seen lots of drunk people before. Tandred got drunk for his birthday last year, and got a tattoo on his--”

“Sunfish,” Kelnar said. “You’re getting off topic.”

“Sorry,” Jaina said. “What about Rommath?”

“Rommath’s a jerk,” Kylian said. “...but there’s a reason behind it. There are elves in Quel’thalas that hate humans, or anyone else who’s not an elf. They’re the Isolationists, and… basically, they suck. They’d like to see us out of the Alliance. Call everyone back, kick out the Shano’dorei like your sister. Rommath’s family is a part of them. He used to be one too, but he’s not any more. Sometimes, he still talks like one though, and thinks like one.”

“It can be hard to push your childhood behind you,” Kelnar observed, raising an eyebrow at him. “Childhood experience can shape our entire lives.”

“In a couple of different ways, yeah,” Kylian agreed readily. “So Rommath’s not over that, plus he’s just generally kind of prickly. He and Ghlorie were part of the same study group, and they made friends, then she brought him to us, and now we’re all friends. Kind of like the way Kael and I brought you to the others, so we could all be friends.”

“I guess all that makes sense,” Jaina said slowly. “But… all you do is ask me to do things for you. At first I was glad to help, but then…”

“We’d help you,” Kylian said. “Kael  _ is  _ helping you, isn’t he? He’s helping you with your classes. Kael’s  _ good  _ at magic, a prodigy even by our standards. He knows what it’s like to be powerful, and he wants to help you grow into your magic too.”

Jaina considered, very seriously. “I like it when he helps me. It’s good, he knows a lot of things. Even if some of his explanations are weird.”

Kelnar’s eyes widened with alarm. “Jaina, I know you’re having trouble at times, but that’s normal. Most of the students fail their first few assignments in a class. Your grade weights emphasize progress rather than raw pass/fail states. I should have--”

“Kael wants to help you,” Kylian cut in, making sure Jaina was listening to him. “He wants to help you be the very best mage you can be. He needs your help too, because he’s  _ smart  _ but he doesn’t know a lot of simple things, common things. Like when to stop eating chocolate.”

“I thought he bought too much,” Jaina said, nodding. “You have to save it and make it last, otherwise you don’t get any more until your next allowance.”

“See, I knew you were smart,” Kylian said. “Will you help your friends? Kael needs your help, but I do too. Rommath can’t even get into his room, and that means sticking him with Ghlor, Voren, and Patha, and we wouldn’t want to do  _ that,  _ would we?”

Jaina giggled, and nodded. “You can help too, right Kelnar?”

Stunned by the shift of mood, her guardian only nodded. Jaina hopped off her lap, and lunged at Kylian for a hug. He was startled, but hugged her gently, patting her hair.

“You’re a good little baby,” Kylian said, and felt her punch him. “Hey, ow.”

“I’m  _ eleven,”  _ Jaina said. “And a--”

“Half,” Kylian finished, and ruffled her hair. “Go get dressed, no pajama parties for us.”

Jaina hurried off, and Kelnar took a deep breath. “Let me dress, and go fetch the master rune set. I should be able to let you both into the house, but if Kael is a danger to others…”

“Not… not really,” Kylian said. “I think I probably should have picked a different method of doing things, and that he’s wired for sound on chocolate and sugar. He’s never actually had candy before, can you believe it?”

“I’m having a hard time with it, yes,” Kelnar said. “There’s candy in Quel’thalas, I know there is. Desserts and sweet treats.”

“Yeah, but not for Kael,” Kylian said, standing as Kelnar moved about the house. “The King… didn’t exactly have a direct hand in raising his kid, so Kael was left to a lot of different people, nurses and tutors. They had a lot of strict ideas about how he was supposed to be raised, and that included not letting him have things that weren’t ‘healthy’. It’s pretty bullshit, if you ask me. I had candy as a kid, and I’m fine.”

He couldn’t  _ see  _ the arch look Kelnar was giving him, but he definitely felt it.

“Probably, if I’d realized what was going on earlier, I could have intervened, but it didn’t seem so bad at first.” Kylian shrugged. “We’ve all had a lot on our minds.”

“Kael’thas needs all of his friends,” Kelnar noted, tugging her cloak into place. “Just like Jaina needs all of hers… and you need all of yours.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Kylian said, smiling. “We’re inseparable.”

“...which is why he managed to throw you outside the house,” Kelnar said dryly, and Kylian shrugged.

“Next time, I’ll be prepared.”

“Of course you will,” Kelnar said. “I just hope we resolve this in time to… Jaina, are you ready?”

“Yup,” Jaina said. “One minute.”

_ I have to hope this works,  _ Kylian said, doing his best not to let his worry show. He hadn’t been wrong and hadn’t lied -- Kael’s friends  _ did  _ like Jaina, though with Rommath one had to dig deep -- but there was no guarantee that Kael wouldn’t lash out again.  _ On the other hand, he’s had some time to calm down, or eat until he pukes, so either way, we’re facing a new situation here. _

Moments later, Jaina appeared, dressed and clutching at a sheaf of papers. Kelnar smiled at her and took her hand, and Kylian nodded to them both.

“Let’s go.”

~ * ~

_ What kind of a monster am I?  _ His thoughts roiled with anguish and self-hate, and even the sweet taste of chocolate was doing little to cut through it. In his mind’s eye, he could see it happening again and again, his best friend, his companion since childhood, flying away from him, borne on wings of fire and smoke, and he whimpered.

His nerves felt jagged and his stomach churned. Taming it with food -- the same food that had caused this in the first place -- seemed to be a solution that only half-worked. He felt sick, and worse, guilty.

_ I can’t do anything right, can I? I can’t be a good son, or a good friend. I don’t have the will or the drive to be a good leader. All I can do is sit here like a useless lump and  _ eat.

The wards tingled and jangled against his ragged nerves, and he hunched low. He’d felt it before, not long after Kylian’s flight, but it had stopped. It would stop again, but it didn’t do anything to settle his nerves or his mind.

The sound of footsteps along the floor, broken by the various bits of carpeting they’d put in, was new.

“Where could he be hiding?” he heard. “This house isn’t that big.”

“Rommath’s room is locked, and the bathroom’s open,” Kylian said, and his heart lightened, even though that simple joy was replaced by crushing guilt. “Which probably means he’s in our room.”

“Maybe in that closet?” Jaina asked, and he liked to imagine she was pointing, even as he shrunk back a little further.

“Kael’s never been in the closet in his  _ life,  _ I’m pretty sure.”

“Kylian, please,” Kelnar said, her voice more distinct as she opened the closet door, letting light in.

Kael’thas Sunstrider, heir to the Sunstrider Dynasty, hissed, and tried to close the door again.

“Nope,” Kylian said. “Out you come, chocolate beast.”

Rather unceremoniously, Kelnar tugged Kael out of the closet, and he sat in front of it in a mess of robes and chocolate wrappings.

“Hey,” Kylian said, and moved to him, squatting down. “You look like shit.”

Kael looked him over, taking in every detail of his face. Kylian seemed none the worse for wear after his flight, and even held his hand out to Kael. He launched himself at Kylian, hugging him frantically.

“You’re… you’re okay,” he said, clinging to him tightly. “I’m sorry, Ky, I’m  _ so  _ sorry…”

“Shh, shh,” Kylian said, rubbing his back gently. “You fucked up. We all do it. We’re going to sort you out, okay?”

“Okay,” Kael said, taking a shaky breath. He let Kylian hold him for a little while, before looking up towards the others. Kelnar seemed amused, and a little exasperated, while Jaina was hunting around for… for… “What’re you looking for?”

“All your candy,” Jaina said decisively. “Keep cuddling with Kylian and we can talk about it after.”

“Yes, Jaina,” Kael said, and did as she bid. Softly, he murmured, “you brought Jaina?”

“Seemed like the smart thing to do,” Kylian whispered back. “You’re definitely going to want to talk to her about some things, but first I think you might want to clean up. You smell like Greatfather Winter’s asshole.”

“Gross,” Kael said, and straightened. “Jaina, I’m going to go wash. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Better not, ‘cause I’ll  _ find  _ you,” Jaina said, and Kael found that both vaguely threatening, and deeply comforting.

Slowly, Kael prised himself away from Kylian, and rose from where he was laying. There wasn’t much point in trying to stand on his dignity, not when Jaina and Kelnar had seen him at his worst. Instead, he took a deep breath and made his way to the bathroom. Once inside, he stripped off his robes and fiddled with the water and stepped under it.

At first, the water hurt, prickling his skin until he was used to it, and then he let it beat down on him, like a cleansing rain. He washed and scrubbed, cleaning himself thoroughly. He soaped, rinsed, and repeated with his hair, driving away the lankness until it felt silky, if not heavy from the water.

_ Just like that, I am reborn,  _ Kael mused. Taking a deep breath, he turned off the water and exhaled water droplets at the same time, and stepped out of the shower. He dried himself, and squeezed the water from his hair before picking up a robe. Examining it, he found it to be entirely different from the one he’d come in with.  _ Sneaky, Kylian, very sneaky. _

He put it on, and went to meet with his friends.

Jaina and Kelnar were seated at a table, sorting the candy pile into smaller ones, and his chest squeezed briefly. Kylian was leaning against the cold box, toying with a rune in one hand.

“Is that my credit rune?” Kael asked, frowning. Kylian gestured at one of the chairs.

“Jaina’s got a plan,” Kylian said. “And it involves me having your credit runes. I am going to--”

“You are  _ not  _ going to spend his money on hookers and blow,” Jaina said, whirling in her seat, and pointing at Kylian accusingly. He grinned, and held his hands up in surrender. She glared at him a moment longer before getting up, and going to Kael. “How do you feel?”

Kael considered. “Better. Cleaner, less frantic. Still… strange, a little numb. Do you know what’s happening?”

“Yup,” Jaina said. “You ate too much candy and it made you sick. Chocolate has, um, stuff in it. Same as tea and coffee, and a few other things. If you aren’t used to it, it can make you all jittery. Some people like it for energy too, if they get up early or stay up late. Too much sugar can give you spots, like the ones you have, though you can get them in other ways. Tandred had them when he was younger, he used to complain about it a  _ lot.” _

Kael nodded slowly. “So… no more chocolate, then.”

“Sort of. If you just quit, it might make you sick too. So we’re going to wean you, like a lamb weaning off of mother’s milk.” Jaina put her hands on her hips. “So we’re dividing up your portions. You can have one a day, until there isn’t any more left, and then you can stop. If you get fruit or juice, you can have sweet things that are better for you.”

“I suppose that makes sense, but why…” Kael gestured to Kylian and the credit rune. “Don’t you trust me?”

“It’s going to suck,” Jaina declared. “You won’t like it. You might try to get just a bit more, and then we’d have to start over. We’re going to do this slowly and carefully. Otherwise you’ll need a healer.”

Kael considered, and then shuddered. “No, thank you. I’d prefer to take care of this between friends.” Jaina looked at him oddly, and he blinked. “What?”

“We  _ are  _ friends, then?” she asked, a hint of uncertainty in her voice. “You’re sure?”

“Of course we are,” Kael said, and held out his hands. Jaina went to him, and he drew her in for a tight hug. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I’m weird,” she said, muffled. “And I don’t have a lot of friends, ‘cept Bluey.”

“You do now,” Kael promised her. “Jaina, I… we’re all weird, in our own way. Each one of us. Some people like to use that to pick on others, but real friends, good friends, know that the ways in which we’re weird and different are just the ways in which we’re special and unique. I’m so glad to have met you. Not just for all of this, but for everything.”

“You don’t think I’m dumb?” Jaina asked, and Kael squeezed a little tighter.

“Never,” he said. “I like to ask you for help because seeing you good at things, confident and clever, makes me feel so happy. You’re the brightest star in the sky, more luminous than a phoenix.”

“Don’t let Al’ar hear you say that,” Jaina giggled, and sniffed. “He’ll be all grumpy-feathers.”

“Don’t cry,” Kael said absently, patting her hair. “He will be. He’s a ridiculous fire chicken.”

“Ah,” Jaina said, Kael echoing right after. “I am  _ not  _ a fire chicken.”

They laughed at the same time, and Jaina stood back a little. Kael moved his hands to her shoulders, looking at her as seriously as he could. “I also like teaching you. I worry that I’m not… really helping you, because you always seem so frustrated. I could do better. I will do better.”

Jaina’s smile creased into a distressed look. “I thought I was in trouble. That I was sent here because I hurt someone. Kylian says… he says that’s not all the way true.”

“You aren’t being punished,” Kael said. “You have a special gift inside you and you need to learn to use it. You aren’t a bad person for hurting someone by accident, though you  _ are  _ a sad person, and an angry one. It’s okay to be angry. It’s okay to be sad. It isn’t okay to use those things as excuses to make  _ other  _ people angry or sad. Or… or blast your friend to kingdom come. So avoid doing that.”

“Hey,” Kylian said, smiling. “I’m fine.”

“I’m still going to avoid it,” Kael pointed out, and Jaina laughed a little. “Friends look out for each other. Real friends, not just people who say the words and don’t mean it. I know what that’s like too.”

“I, um, I brought my writing practice,” Jaina said. “And maybe later, when we’ve got all your chocolate sorted out, we can study together? You’re good at explaining things, mostly.”

“Mostly, hm?” Kael said, and squeezed her shoulders. “We’ll work on that together.”

“Together, like friends,” Jaina promised, her eyes shining brightly. “I promise.”

“This is lovely,” Kelnar said, continuing to sort. “But your friends are hovering just outside and it’s nearly midnight.”

“Shit,” Kael and Kylian said in unison, and Jaina giggled. “Let’s let them in. Jaina, could you get the door?”

“Okay, Kael.” Jaina hurried to the door and opened it. Kael’s other friends were crowded around the door and windows like eager children. When the way was clear, they hurried inside, nodding to Jaina as they crowded around him.

Despite how he still felt, Kael couldn’t help but smile as his friends hugged him, and he hugged them back, murmuring promises. He beckoned Jaina back over to be a part of the pile as questions fired back and forth.

_ I may not have much in the way of family,  _ Kael thought,  _ but I have such good friends. They’re all I need to keep me going. No matter our differences, the strength of our bond together will carry us through any crisis. Obviously, this was a small one, but something more serious can be met the same way and-- _

“Excuse me?” called a vaguely familiar voice, and Kael looked past Patha’s shoulder, curious. “I was told my mother was here? That there was some kind of emergency?”

“Oh,” Kelnar said, rising and hurrying to the door. “Finn, I wasn’t sure when you’d arrive.”

_ That must be why I recognize her voice,  _ Kael thought. Outside of uniform, Finnall Goldensword was not precisely what the most pretentious elves would call ‘pretty’, but she was certainly handsome. Her human heritage had given her a stronger jaw than most elven women, and though her eyes didn’t glow, the blue-green of them was striking. Her long, brown hair was tied back in a tail, and she wore a sturdy tunic and trousers, both in darker shades of blue and green.

“Finn!” Jaina crowed, and hurried towards her, hitting her like oversized cannon shot as she hugged her sister. “I didn’t know you were coming to visit!”

“Mother wanted it to be a bit of a surprise,” Finn said, hugging her back. “Thought you might like another familiar face in Dalaran for a little while, and the General gave me some time. Looks like you found some people, though?”

“Yup,” Jaina said proudly. “They’re my  _ friends.  _ Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

Jaina grasped her sister’s hand, and tugged Finnall towards the elves. Her eyes widened in surprise as she recognized Kael and Kylian, and nodded politely to the others.

Out of the corner of his eye, Kael saw Ghlorine press her hand to her heart, and the perfect ‘o’ of her mouth as she tried to pull herself together enough to make a proper introduction.

_ As the goblins would say… jackpot. _


	10. Interlude - Spring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The Archive, Quel’thalas  
>  Late Spring, Y14_

Shelem’vor Firesong, Majordomo to King Anasterian of Quel’thalas, teleported onto the Archive’s lands, and looked around. The sight depressed him. It had been built long before his time, on the suggestion of a mage who had  _ probably  _ been one of the Guardians, a few thousand years ago.

_ Somewhere between Alodi and Aegwynn, which is the best most people can manage,  _ he mused.  _ Unless they’re going to read one of those boring-ass books about the matter. _

The first time he’d seen the Archive, he had been young, and Farathir Spellchaser had just successfully petitioned to become its head librarian. Farathir had been educated in Dalaran, which tended to make most elves turn up their noses despite the shared history of the human nation and the elven one, but his training had been breathtaking on paper.

Shel had been more than a little in love with him, actually, and the first time they’d had sex in the stacks of the library, Farathir had nearly expired due to embarrassment. That, and his asthma had been triggered by the dust that hadn’t been cleared out by the previous head librarian, and he’d almost choked on it.

The memory of it made Shel’s chest ache.

Farathir had been, effectively, a nobody as far as elven society was concerned. Human accolades meant little unless they were affirmed by elves, and few people ever really thought about the Archive.

_ It’s funny,  _ Shel thought as he approached.  _ Because it’s probably one of the most valuable buildings we own that doesn’t hold the Sunwell. _

Innocuously named, the Archive was mostly a storage facility -- as archives often were -- for the most dangerous materials seized by the Kirin Tor and the Guardian during the six thousand years that mages had lived in the Eastern Kingdoms. While most people knew of the ancient war that had transpired in Kalimdor, few understood its repercussions: for as long as demons had known about Azeroth, people on Azeroth had known about demons. While most sensible people would agree that summoning a demon -- or worshiping one, or trying to glean information from one -- was a stupid thing to do, not everyone was sensible, or could be.

If the ancient queen Azshara had been  _ sensible  _ none of this would have happened, but the past was the past, buried under sixty billion stone of water at the bottom of the ocean.

Every time an agent of the Kirin Tor discovered some fool trying to put together a demonic ritual or write an infernal book, they put a stop to it, but the physical objects they had made, the books and scrolls, were often permanent fixtures in the world, as destroying them proved to be difficult, dangerous, or both. Storing them was the only safe thing to do, and store them they did.

The actual job, the job that didn’t look like ‘loner sits in a library by themselves, dusting old books’, took immense amounts of focus and study to keep the containment of the books intact, constant maintenance of the wards, dozens of clean rooms to attempt to bind the books into a safer, more benign state, and other things forgotten by a society that wanted to sit around, drink wine, and gossip.

Less alarmingly, the Archive also held books that were merely too old to remain in circulation, but had already been neatly copied for the new edition. The old editions were kept at the Archive and sometimes restored, though they would never return to public shelves.

_ Fara’s little kingdom of paper and leather, right at his fingertips. _

Farathir Spellchaser had fallen in love with a girl _ \-- a woman, let’s be fair here --  _ named Edelle’ilene Runeweaver, a scion of one of the oldest houses in Quel’thalas, one of the inheritors of the task of maintaining the Runestones that protected Quel’thalas from anything that might take exception to the fact it practically glowed with power, a beacon to the demons in the Twisting Nether.

Shel had been jealous, but supportive. How could he not be, when it made Farathir’s summer-sky blue eyes glow with happiness to speak of her, the warmth of her smile and the kindness of her touch. His own future spoke of a polite but cold marriage into one of the other noble houses.

The Runeweavers, for their part, had been furious. They had been juggling several different proposals from major houses in trade, shipping, and one particularly skilled stonemason who had been trained by dwarves and gnomes and promised to incorporate said teachings into the Runeweaver family once he had his first heir, when Edelle had eloped with Farathir, their wedding a whirlwind of hilarious missteps.

Shel had been one of the witnesses, and he’d smiled even when it had hurt.

The Runeweavers had disavowed Edelle completely, refusing to recognize any children she and Farathir might have as heirs to the family’s fortune and holdings.

Edelle hadn’t cared. She had been defiant, stubborn and insistent that she needed nothing her family had, only her husband and the dynasty they would leave behind. She had turned her back on them and together, she and Farathir had built up the librarian’s living space into a home for a family, their family.

The Runeweavers had raged, and the nobles had muttered, but realistically, there was nothing more that they could do, since the Archive was already located in the ass end of nowhere, near the border with the hungry Lordamere.

Shel’s father, Regarian Firesong, had warned his son sternly about being so foolish, and Shel had nodded obligingly, even if he’d envied Edelle her bravery and freedom as much as her choice in husband.

Time had passed, and Farathir and Edelle had children, a son named Donarian, and a daughter, Laurelei. Shel had married too, and his son, Kylan’thas, was roughly Donarian’s age. He’d watched things play out almost as if in slow motion:

Kylan’thas had a crush on Donarian, just as Shel had loved -- still loved -- Farathir. Donarian had his father’s sweetness and his mother’s charisma. Laurelei had followed Kylian with her gaze, quiet and longing.

It had been easy to plan for the predictable future; Kylian had a duty to Kael’thas, who was Anasterian’s sole child and heir, and would need a majordomo of his own. Shel’s son would need a politically appropriate partner from a family that  _ wasn’t  _ in exile. While Kylian was visiting the Spellchasers, Kael’thas had been engaged with his own friends and looked more than a little lost when Kylian was away.

The war with the orcs had changed things, upending a world that had been, if not peaceful, then predictable in its propensity for drama.

Donarian had put his sailing talent to good use and joined the navy. The  _ Tiran  _ navy, because if her time in political exile had taught Edelle anything, it was that anything the elves were doing, someone else could do better, with half the idiocy and twice the fun. There, Donarian had joined the crew of Captain Derek Proudmoore, the eldest of Daelin Proudmoore’s children -- rumours aside -- and become his second in command.

Donarian, and Derek, had died to dragonfire during one of the fleet actions during the war.

The orcs had swept up into Quel’thalas, led by the Amani trolls, still burning with resentment centuries later from the loss of what they considered to be their home, and plundered parts of it. They had stolen one of the Runestones, just a little further out and vulnerable, killing huge swathes of the defenders to get at it.

The Runeweavers had been shattered by their losses, from the head of the House, Edelle’s mother, to as far back as second and third cousins, leaving the family gutted.

The warlocks had come for the Archive, cloaked in darkness and contemptuous of the slender elven man with bad lungs and poor eyesight that had come to meet them, tome in hand.

What they wanted was the key to entering the Tomb of Sargeras. A simple thing, they’d pointed out. A trivial thing, considering how  _ much  _ they could take from this place, the names of a thousand powerful demons, the means to summon a hellstorm, among other things.

Farathir had refused them. He would never betray Quel’thalas, or Azeroth, to the demons. He had clutched the book in his arms as they threatened him, promising to destroy his home and his family unless he gave them what they wanted.

The orcs believed he could not stand up to them, that the threat of pain and destruction would weaken him. They had been wrong. Farathir had destroyed the book, and they had killed him, cast him aside. They had swept over the Archive with demon fire and petty vengeance in their hearts.

The wards of the Archive had protected much of what was hidden, and Edelle, clutching her daughter, had protected Laurelei from the worst of it, but not herself. Never herself, because she loved her family -- her real family, the family she had chosen -- more than her own life.

When the war had ended, the world was unsettled, shaken from its foundations but not torn down. Shel had gone to see the ruin of the Archive, to check the wards, to see Laurelei, grief-stricken, and Edelle…

Edelle was dying. Not dead, not injured, but dying. The fel magic had gotten into her, into lungs that had never been weak and into bones that had never been fragile, and it gnawed at her, stealing her strength and leaving her as delicate as spun glass.

He suggested she be taken to Silvermoon to see the healers, and she’d sworn at him, threatening to kick his ass back to Quel’danas. He told her that her family, including her mother, was dead, and she told him they deserved it for being so incredibly shitty that they could fertilize fields in Lordaeron. He told her that he would adopt Laurelei into his house to protect her, to give her a better life.

She told him that his wife, the woman he did not care for but who was nonetheless the mother of his son, was abusing Kylian, and that if he dared to let her do the same to Laurelei, she would rise from her sickbed and tear his throat out.

He had never succeeded in convincing Edelle to leave her home, but he had paid for its reconstruction into a smaller house, easier for a single woman to manage, and for the constructs that tended the grounds as best they could. He had never adopted Laurelei, who was as stubborn as her mother, though young and vulnerable.

He had, on the other hand, spoken to Kylian. He’d listened with horror as his son had explained  -- apologizing, stuttering, making excuses in places -- what his mother had done to him, what his mother was  _ still  _ doing to him, and why he’d wanted to live with the Spellchasers, with people who loved their children fiercely, who didn’t… hurt them, as he had been hurt.

Shel had held Kylian close to him, making a decision that was surprisingly easy, all things considered. This wasn’t the first case where children were abused by their parents. Shel was aware of that, but it had always been in a distant way. He had missed the signs, being away from home, working to keep Quel’thalas running smoothly. In most cases, it was kept tucked away, hidden, a secret shame that festered in darkness until it couldn’t be ignored. Children moved away from their parents and stayed away. Sometimes, a spouse would ‘retire to the countryside’ and not return. They would still have, if they pressed, access to their children.

Shel thought of Edelle’s threats, made as she writhed in agony in her sickbed, the defiance that flashed in her eyes, and he did the unthinkable.

He filed for divorce.

He had pled his case to Anasterian directly, refusing to drag his son into a courtroom or before his mother’s relatives. He’d explained in no uncertain terms that he  _ was  _ going to deny his wife access to their son, that she would  _ never  _ speak to Kylian or touch him again, and damn the consequences, and his friend, his lover, his King had agreed.

He had told Edelle immediately, brought medicine and administered it with his own hands, stood at her bedside while she nodded in approval, her thin features pinched with pain, and his heart had lightened just a little.

He would never get Farathir back, and he would never erase the harm that had been done to Kylian, but oddly, he felt as though he’d gained a friend in Edelle’ilene Spellchaser.

That was when the rumours had started; that he had lied about his wife’s abuses, that he had, for some contrived, twisted reason, decided that he wanted to marry his best friend’s widow and had pushed his wife out of the way in favour of this woman, this rebel, this exile.

Edelle had advised him to ignore it. He had tried, but there was one, small factor that made the words of the noble court stick in his skin like thorns.

He had fallen in love with her. It was a slow thing, and it survived the knowledge that Kylian had managed to break Laurelei’s heart badly enough that she wouldn’t see him again. It survived watching Edelle shrink away, though she was still defiant in her pain, still angry, still fighting, still too prideful to accept help.

It survived barbs between Anasterian and Edelle’ilene, passed between them by Shelem’vor himself, with each being entirely unwilling to forgive the other for past slights, despite the fact that time -- Edelle’s time, perhaps even Quel’thalas’ time -- was growing shorter.

“Edelle,” Shellcalled out, standing at the doorway. “It’s me.”

“It’s about time,” she rasped, and his ears twitched. “I was wondering when you’d get here.” He followed the sound of her voice towards where she was sitting out in the garden, her pale, thin fingers clutching at the arms of her chair. She hadn’t dressed -- she rarely did -- and her sleeping robe was wrapped around her shrunken form.

Her hair, once golden blonde, had faded to white and was stiff and brittle, like straw. Her jewel green eyes were clouded with pain as she gazed out over her garden. It was overgrown, a sight rarely found in Quel’thalas. It was oddly beautiful, like the woman who sat in them herself.

Shel knelt before her, taking her hand and kissed her fingers. “I’m sorry, Queen of my heart, I was called to a bullshit meeting with stupid people.”

“Aren’t they all bullshit meetings with stupid people?” Edelle asked. “I’ve been waiting for you. Stand up, I don’t want you tracking dirt inside the house. Take me inside.”

“Of course,” Shel said, and stood, then lifted her from the chair, securing her in his arms. She was feather-light, and it worried him. “Have you been eating?”

“Whatever I can manage.” Edelle leaned into his arms. “Soup, mostly, it’s the easiest thing to manage. I’d kill a man for a steak.”

“Elves are notoriously hard to butcher,” Shel said as he carried her inside. “You’re looking for a nice human flank, possibly a dwarf.”

“Dwarves are too leathery unless you get to them young,” Edelle murmured. “Then you might as well be having gnome.”

Shel laughed a little, and Edelle smiled. The house was small, with a single floor and only a handful of rooms, though all of them had books in them. Most were old, recovered from the attack and restored, though with less expertise and skill than Farathir had possessed. It kept Edelle busy, though it took her months of effort, slowed as she was by her condition, to repair them.

The back entrance led into the sitting room, and Shel could see one of the constructs applying cleaning magics to the chairs, while another was checking the shelves for dust. They were squat and thick-set, amethyst and grey marble, and they were the best that Shel could buy that Edelle could  _ also  _ afford. They were meant for heavy duty work, not the delicate task of cooking or nursing, and more than once, Shel had asked Edelle -- begged, really -- to let him hire a proper care nurse for her.

She’d refused, and threatened to turn any unauthorized person on the premises into a toad.

Edelle’s bedroom had a large window that faced towards the pond, and Shel couldn’t help but glance towards it. In earlier days, Edelle’s children had swam in it, and invited Kylian along with them. Edelle had paddled and splashed. Farathir had shied away, afraid that he would damage a book he was carrying or some of the papers he was being asked to preserve.

Now, no one used the pond, and the children rarely, if ever, came home.

_ It’s like looking at the faded glory of a fallen empire,  _ Shel thought.  _ Even knowing that it wasn’t a perfect time, that Kylian was unhappy at home, I still can’t help but wish for those days again, and for the power to see it never go bad in the first place. _

Edelle, however, loved the view, and as he set her down on the bed and helped tuck the blankets around her, she looked towards the pond. He sat on the bed next to her, watching her, studying her face.

“Is Kylian coming to visit soon?” Edelle asked without preamble. “He hasn’t come here for a long time.”

“When was the last time?” Shel asked, worrying his jaw a little. “Do you--”

“He came here after he fucked things up with Laurelei,” Edelle said, a hint of annoyance in her voice. “He was afraid that I would hate him, and I told him that I didn’t, that everyone makes mistakes, but that he needs to talk to  _ her  _ more than he does to me. He hasn’t been back since. I’m not losing my memory, Shel.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have ever questioned it,” Shel murmured, and offered her his hand. “Forgive me?”

“You’re lucky you’re so hot,” Edelle said, and placed her hand in his. He squeezed her fingers gently, and thumbed over the back. “You came here to ask me something, so ask.”

“It’s actually related,” Shel said. “Kael’thas has gone to live in Dalaran, and Kylian went with him, along with some of their other friends. Anasterian let them go.”

“Anasterian never lets anything go,” Edelle noted, without a trace of irony. “Except things he doesn’t care about.”

“Anasterian is…” Shel frowned. “Wrong, about a lot of things, especially how he treats Kael. He’s trying to teach him a lesson, but I don’t think Kael is going to learn the lesson Anasterian believes he’s teaching him.”

“Which is, what, at this point?” Edelle asked, eyes drifting half-closed.

“That falling in love is a mistake, because it hurts when you lose someone you genuinely care about,” Shel said. “So the only thing to do is never love.”

“Anasterian Sunstrider is a stupid fuck,” Edelle declared. “Everyone needs to love someone, even if it’s themselves. We need to reach out and make connections, create a network of friends, lovers, and allies. No one is strong all by themselves.”

“As wise as you are beautiful,” Shel murmured. “As strong as the Runes.”

“They’re failing,” Edelle said, abruptly. “I can feel them, the failing leylines, crawling under my skin like bugs. The gap is throwing everything off.”

“I know,” Shel said. “Anasterian can feel it too, and I’ve seen the reports from the Farstriders. We need another Runestone, and we need it soon, otherwise the defenses will fail. The whole thing will come tumbling down like a house of cards.”

“You want me to help you,” Edelle said. “You came here to ask for my help.”

“Yes,” Shel admitted. “Anasterian won’t budge on your status within the family, but I was thinking, if we can pull this off, he won’t be able to ignore--”

“I can’t,” she said, and drew her hand from his. Shel sighed in frustration.

“Look, I know you hate him, but Quel’thalas  _ needs  _ you, needs the Runeweavers. You can’t condemn--”

“No, Shel, I  _ can’t,”  _ Edelle repeated, and looked up at him. “As in, physically incapable of.” She inhaled, and it shuddered through her, and the exhalation rattled and whined in her lungs. “I can’t use magic any more.”

A sensation of cold fear rippled through Shel. “What? When did this..?”

“Over time. It was painful, after the attack. Easier to avoid it when there was so much else going on. Easy enough to do things by hand, even if it was tiring. Once I stopped reaching for my gift, it became harder to access, until…” She closed her eyes. “It’s gone. I can receive arcane messages but I can’t send them. I can speak to the constructs and give them orders, but I can’t repair them. I know the wards are there, but I can’t touch them.”

“...you can feel the arcane grid, but can’t repair it.” Shel bit his lip. “Edelle…  _ Belore  _ above, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t you dare pity me,” she said harshly. “Pity Quel’thalas, or Anasterian, if you must, but don’t feel sorry for me. All I want you to do is make sure that Kylian comes to pay me a visit, sooner rather than later.”

“I’ll try,” Shel said, and leaned in, brushing his lips against her temple. “I can’t guarantee anything, since he has to stay with Kael, but I’ll definitely try.”

“Too damn loyal for your own good,” Edelle murmured. “I’d kick his ass across the continent.”

“I know you would,” Shel said. “Is there… anything I can do for you?”

“Yes,” she replied. “I want you to make love to me.”

Shel smiled, and brushed his thumb against her cheek. There were many reasons he had come to love Edelle’ilene Spellchaser, even if the things he liked best -- her stubborn pride, her defiance of social convention, her fierce loyalty to those she loved -- were the same reasons she was lying here, dying by inches. Of all the things that had changed, of all the hurt they’d experienced and the joy they’d shared, the greatest miracle of all was that this beautiful, defiant, proud woman loved him back.

Shel drew the blankets away, creating a nest of sorts along the opposite side of her. He leaned in, kissing her softly, letting her press the kiss. Her lips felt paper-dry, and he was careful when he nibbled at her bottom lip, not wanting to break skin. His hands moved to the sash of her sleeping robe and untied it slowly, tugging it open.

Edelle was thin, so thin he had been afraid, after the first time she’d asked this of him, that she might shatter into glass and dust, but she was stronger than that, stronger than iron, stronger than marble, stronger than anyone he’d ever known. Lesser men had broken under the pain she experienced.

After all, Shel knew one of them.

He ran his fingers along her stomach, stroking gently over her breasts, brushing lightly as he felt them perk up under his touch. He could feel her ribs under them, so painfully thin that he couldn’t pinch, couldn’t bite, couldn’t drag his nails along her skin, but she made a soft, pleased noise anyway, and knew it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she was happy.

He broke the kiss a few moments later, instead brushing his mouth over her ear, kissing its length while his hand wandered downwards, tracing gentle patterns over her stomach, feeling the old lines and stretch scars left over from pregnancy, and they felt like a roadmap of her early life. She couldn’t properly shift under his touch, writhing took too much energy, but he knew where she wanted to be touched, the stroke of a thumb across a hip crease, dangerously sharp, and then down, slipping his fingers under the band of her underwear. He cupped her mound with one hand, while the other tugged the cloth down, stopping just before her knees.

“Shel,” Edelle moaned softly. “More.”

“I will, I promise,” he said, and stroked his fingers along her entrance. His work was slow, methodical, listening to the way her unsteady breathing wheezed, and he felt her bony fingers clutch at him. “Patience, beloved. I’m here.”

“I’ll bite you,” she breathed out, and he laughed softly. “I will.”

“Kinky,” Shel replied. “I’m quivering.” He continued to work until he could slip a finger inside her, and stroked gently. He nudged at her clit with the side of his thumb, brushing against it with each slow stroke. He worked this way for a little while, murmuring softly to her, telling her how much he loved her, how he would sweep her away to the Spire, that he would make her the Queen she deserved to be.

Partway through, she fell asleep, her laboured breathing becoming more steady. Once he heard the change, he stopped, withdrawing his fingers, and drew a handkerchief from his sleeve, wiping his fingers, and then, between her legs. He tugged her underwear back up, then folded the halves of the robe back over her, fastening the sash.

“Sleep well, love,” Shel said softly, and tucked the blankets back around her. Because she preferred it, he guided her hand so it was above the blanket, stroking it once or twice before he took a breath and stood. He couldn’t stay. He never could.

Escaping his duties at the Spire to visit Edelle was a rebellion, of sorts, but a tolerated one.  _ A Firesong always serves a Sunstrider. So long as there is one, there’s the other, until Silvermoon falls and we are all dust. _

Before he left, he checked on the constructs, making sure their enchantments were strong, then focused his attention on the boxes of supplies he had set aside in his own quarters. It was a simple thing to summon them here, to unpack the packets of dried soup mix and tea, to check the electric kettle he’d made sure Edelle had, testing its weight and integrity before filling it with water.

_ One less thing for her to manage, this time,  _ he thought.  _ Until I can see her again. _

Shel glanced around, one last time, frowning at an unfamiliar stack of books. He took a step towards it, and felt the quiet but insistent pull of his liege.

_ Alright, Annan, I’m coming,  _ he thought as he focused on the Spire.  _ No need to be jealous. _

As quietly as he had come, Shelem’vor Firesong teleported away from the Archive.

End Interlude


End file.
